


gonna be the man who's coming home to you

by jennycaakes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-03 01:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 63
Words: 70,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6591790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennycaakes/pseuds/jennycaakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Minty drabbles that are placed in modern-AUs. None of them are related to each other unless otherwise stated! Cross posted from Tumblr. Some are short, some are long, all are Minty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. don't be cute

**Author's Note:**

> I figured I should post my Tumblr fics on AO3 as well in an easily accessible zone, so that's where we're at. Enjoy! I have one for just 100!verse but these are all modern. Hope you like them!

Monty knew, realistically, that there was no way the wide receiver of Arkadia University’s football would _ever_ spot him in the bleachers. God, they passed each other in the gym once and made eye contact for approximately two seconds and Monty _melted_. But. Okay. That would never happen during a freaking football game.

But Monty ended up in the front row anyway. Clarke to his left, Harper to his right, Jasper in the row behind him screaming loudly for their team. 

“He lives in my building, you know,” Harper said. Monty pressed his lips together and scanned the field. “And I work at the front desk, so I see him a lot.”

“See who?” Clarke asked.

“Number 19,” Harper answered, gesturing to the field. “Monty’s got a crush.”

“I do _not_ ,” he stressed. He barely knew the guy. Well, he knew his name was Nathan Miller (thank you online roster) and that he was a junior and was a fast runner. And that he worked out without a shirt on. But. Other than that. “Stop it, Harper.”

“19?” a voice said. Monty turned to find Bellamy on the other side of Clarke, a curious expression on his face. “That’s Miller.” Well, fuck. “We were suitemates his freshman year. How do you know Miller?”

“He doesn’t,” Harper answered. “He’s just–”

“ _Harper_ ,” Monty warned. 

“–got a crush,” Harper finished, looking smug. Monty felt his face burning up. “What?” she teased. “He’s got a nice body.”

Bellamy laughed, and shrugged almost in agreement. Monty wanted to melt into the bleachers. 

* * *

Despite being probably the worst friend ever, Monty ended up at the front desk the next day to talk to Harper. He probably wasn’t _supposed_  to be behind the desk, but she was awful at chemistry and worked for the next few hours so he sat behind and helped her with her work. 

All Harper had to do was sit there and say hello to people walking in, smile and wave, and maybe rent out some pots and pans if someone wanted to use a kitchen to cook. 

Monty was chewing on a pen cap when Number 19 walked through the door. 

He nearly choked. Harper looked up with a smile. “Hey, Nate!” she cheered.

“Harper,” he answered. God, even his voice was nice. Monty was staring at him. Nate, Number 19, whatever, he was looking at Monty too. “Do I know you?” he asked. 

“Uh.” Monty opened and closed his mouth. “No, I do–I don’t think so.” 

He was _really_  looking at Monty now. Intense dark eyes, like there was a thought on the tip of his tongue. “You come to the game last weekend?” he asked.

“We _did_ ,” Harper cheered. “Sat right in the front.”

His face lit up in recognition, and a smile that looked rare graced his face. “Yeah,” Nate said. “I remember you. I could see you from the bench.” He licked his lips, his smile growing. Shit, he _knew_  he was good looking. “What’s your name?” he asked. 

“Monty.”

“Monty,” Nate echoed, testing it. “Nice.” He tipped his head at Harper then, but his eyes flickered back to Monty with that stupid smile still on his face. “See you around,” he said.

The moment he was on the elevator Harper turned to Monty with a grin. “Monty! Did you _hear_  how he said your name?!”

Monty couldn’t focus on chemistry very well after that.

* * *

Monty went to the next game. He didn’t even _like_  football, but _God_  the way Nate had said his name…

Nate. Was he on first name basis with a boy he didn’t even know? Probably not. Monty didn’t care. Couldn’t stop thinking about it. _Nate._ What a nice name for a boy with a nice face. 

“He’s single, you know.” Monty turned to find Bellamy, looking amused. “Miller.” 

“Nate?”

Bellamy’s eyebrows shot to his forehead. “You call him _Nate_?” he asked.

“You call him Miller?”

“That’s his name,” Bellamy said. 

“So… is Nate?” Monty tried.

Bellamy’s smile widened. “Single,” he repeated. “Just saying.”

* * *

Monty actively avoided Harper’s building. She was probably one of his best friends in the world, especially at this school, but thinking about going to her dorm stressed him out. All because of a boy who he didn’t even know.

But, of course, Monty ended up there anyway. At the front desk. Again.

Every time the front doors would open he would look up feeling his heart in his throat. Why did the concept of this stupid wide receiver make him so nervous? This handsome boy with his handsome smile? 

“Harper,” they both suddenly heard. The two turned to find the football player leaving the elevator, striding toward them with a dark look in his eyes. Or maybe that was just his eyes. Dark and piercing and _wow_. “I’m supposed to have a package coming but I have to head to practice or my coach is literally going to kill me. Can you look out for it?”

“Sure, Nate,” she said. 

His eyes drifted. “Monty,” he said. 

“Nate,” Monty returned.

The smile that filled Nate’s face was brilliant. “You heading out?” he asked. “I can walk with you.”

In fact, Monty was _not_  heading out. His books were scattered across the desk and he had papers everywhere. But Harper was already shoving them back into his bag as though it was her own.

“He _is_ ,” Harper said. “Aren’t you?”

“I, oh.”

That was how Monty ended up walking across campus with Nathan Miller.

“Most people call me Miller, you know,” he said. Monty wasn’t sure where he was going. In fact, he was pretty sure he didn’t even know this side of campus. But still he walked. 

“Sorry,” Monty murmured.

“No, I like that you call me Nate.” They were both quiet for a minute. “I hear you know Bellamy, yeah? So you’re Clarke’s friend?”

“Yeah,” Monty said. “Clarke’s awful at thermodynamics, needed some help. We went from there.”

Nate grinned. “And you’re good at thermodynamics?” he asked. 

“I’m good at everything.” If possible, Nate’s grin widened. “Science related,” Monty added. Talking to a football player wasn’t all that hard. He was normal. He knew Clarke and Bellamy, which made him real. Probably a little hardheaded (because you _had_  to be if you wanted to hang out with Clarke and Bellamy). 

“Well I’m shit at science,” Nate said. “You want to help me out? I’ve got a biology test coming up.” 

Oh, hell yes. Monty was great at biology. “Sure,” he answered with a smile. 

Nate was still grinning, and Monty felt like a million bucks. “I have to go this way,” he said, tipping his head one direction. “But I’ll see you–yeah?”

“Yeah,” Monty agreed with a smile. “I’ll see you.”

* * *

_From Unknown - 8:43 PM  
Hey it’s Miller. Bellamy gave me your number. Is that weird? _

How in holy hell was Monty supposed to concentrate on The X-Files now?

He re-read the message about eight times. Monty wasn’t suave, okay, but he wasn’t a bumbling idiot either. And the way Miller/Nate whatever had smiled at him was empowering. He could do this. He could _totally_  do this.

_**From Monty - 8:49 PM  
Don’t know any Millers. I do know a Nate, though, maybe?** _

_From Nate - 8:51 PM  
Har har. Don’t be cute_

_**From Monty - 8:52 PM  
It’s all I know!** _

_From Nate - 8:54 PM  
Unfortunately that’s probably true_

Monty wasn’t sure what texting a football player entailed. But Nathan Miller was flirting with him and he was rolling with it, dammit.

The X-Files played on Monty’s laptop and before Monty knew what had happened he realized he hadn’t been paying attention for multiple episodes, that his phone was nearly dying, and that it was _late_. 

_From Nate - 1:31 AM  
You going to bed anytime soon? Because I need to go to sleep and that gets increasingly harder if you respond to my messages_

_**From Monty - 1:31 AM  
Just go to bed! I don’t care** _

_From Nate - 1:32 AM  
I would if you stopped responding to my messages._

**_From Monty - 1:32 AM  
Good night, Nate_ **

_From Nate - 1:33 AM  
It certainly was_

God, Monty was so screwed.

* * *

A few nights later Monty ended up on the floor of Nathan Miller’s dorm room, spread out across two different textbooks and a pile of homework papers trying to help him study. Monty would get so involved in whatever the topic was that he’d been explaining he didn’t realize that Nate was staring at him, or licking his lips, or _not listening at all_. 

“I’m trying to help you here,” Monty said after he gave an entire spiel on heterozygote advantage. “And you aren’t even paying attention!”

“That’s a difficult concept when someone like you’s explaining it,” Nate said. Monty frowned, but his chest was twisting. “Not that you’re a bad teacher,” he carried on carelessly. “Because you’re not. You’re a great teacher. But you do this thing with your mouth and it’s really distracting.”

“I do this thing with my mouth?” Monty echoed. 

“Yeah,” Nate nodded. “You like, scrunch it up. When you’re thinking. To the side.” A small smile blossomed on Nate’s face. “It’s cute.” Monty pointed at him as though reprimanding him, but didn’t say a thing. “Understood,” Nate said. 

Monty wanted to yell at him. But he couldn’t. God, he couldn’t. “You’re the one with a test tomorrow,” he reminded him. “Not me. Just saying.” Nate’s smile widened and he looked toward the ground at the papers that were spread out. “What’s that look for?” Monty asked. 

“I, uh,” Nate started, but then stopped. He was sheepish when he looked back up at Monty. “I’m not actually that bad at biology,” he said. 

Monty felt his shoulders droop. “What?”

“I’m actually pretty good at biology.” 

“ _What_?” 

Nate was looking back down at the ground. “Bellamy told you think I’m cute,” Nate said quietly, awkwardly. “I don’t remember the last time someone called me _cute_. And–shit, Monty.” He looked back up, looking guarded. “Sorry,” he murmured. “This was probably a shitty thing to do.”

“Well, yeah,” Monty said. “We just wasted an hour talking about _biology terms_.” Monty sat up and leaned toward Nate, cupping his cheeks before kissing him once. Nate grinned against Monty’s mouth and despite the awkward angle tugged him toward him.

Somehow they ended up with Monty on his back, spread out across the biology work, and Nate propped up above him with their mouths never more than an inch apart. 

“Wasted an hour,” Nate murmured against Monty’s lips. “My roommate’ll be home in like twenty minutes.”

Monty could’ve whined. Instead he forced out, “I don’t like football.” 

Nate laughed. “I don’t really care,” he said. “As long as you like me.”

“God, you’re cute.”

* * *

Monty went to the next football game.

His boyfriend was playing, so he felt kind of obligated to. Also seeing Nate in his football uniform, despite Monty _really_ not liking football, was a literal blessing. 

Those pants were so _tight_. 

“You’re paying an awful lot of attention today,” Clarke hummed from Monty’s left. 

“He just likes the wide receiver,” Harper teased from Monty’s right.

“Turns out the wide receiver likes him too,” Bellamy added. 

“You all are _literally_ the worst,” Monty said, pointing to his friends. And they laughed, and Monty smiled. Because God, he really did like the wide receiver. He couldn’t even pretend he didn’t. 


	2. blind dates

Monty shifts awkwardly in his seat, glancing over his shoulder another time. 

This is stupid. He knew from the minute Clarke set it up that it was stupid, but part of him was curious. “He thinks you’re cute,” Clarke had said. “And he doesn’t think things are cute ever.” And Monty thought _that_ was cute, so he decided to give it a chance.

He’s late, though. Monty shifts once more before reaching for his cup of coffee to take another drink. Five more minutes and he’s gone.

But then the door swings open and in strides someone who looks incredibly familiar. He stands in the walkway for a minute before catching Monty’s eyes, and then a grin that Monty’s never seen before lights up his face.

“Monty,” he calls out, and Monty nods. He crosses the room to him and lowers himself in the seat across from Monty. “Miller,” he reminds him, and Monty nods another time. “Bellamy–he told me I’d know who he’d set me up with when I got here.” Monty opens his mouth to respond but then closes it, unsure of what to say. “Sorry I’m late,” Miller carries on. “I had a meeting at work that ran over.”

“It’s okay,” Monty says. 

Miller lounges back in his seat causally, another smile taking his face. “You know who I am, right? I’m not just talking out of my ass?”

“No–oh, shit,” Monty says with a laugh. “Sorry, I’m surprised is all. Hi, yes. You’re Bellamy’s cute friend.” 

Miller leans back in his seat, licking his lips before his mouth stretches into a grin. He looks like wants to say something but is constantly forgetting what it is. Finally he resolves with, “I’m going to grab a coffee real quick.”

Miller stands and crosses to the register before ordering quickly, and then he’s back at the table with Monty. “We’ve been to a few of the same parties,” Monty points out, and Miller nods. He’s noticed Miller before. Not the most social person but incredibly good looking, always by Bellamy’s side with a beer in his hand. Monty first started noticing him with Clarke and Bellamy got together, which makes sense if he’s Bellamy’s friend. “Your name’s _Miller_?”

“Nate,” he says. “But most people call me Miller.”

“Nate sounds nicer on the tongue,” Monty tells him. Miller arches an eyebrow. It probably sounds better some other ways too. The boy who made Miller’s coffee calls out his name so he stands to grab it before returning to sit. “Tell me three facts about yourself,” Monty says as Miller pops the top to his drink, blowing on the hot liquid to cool it down. “Go.”

Miller thinks for a minute. “Uh. Okay. I wore a beanie every day of my junior year in high school. I thought it was a look–it wasn’t.” Monty smiles then, and Miller’s grin returns. He has nice teeth, Monty realizes. “I majored in English in college,” he says, “because I really love old English poetry. But mostly I can’t wait for Harry Potter to become a classic so I can write about Snape being a dick.”

“I’m falling in love with you. Keep going.”

“Uhh,” Miller starts again with a little laugh, shaking his head at Monty who’s smiling just as brightly. “The first time I noticed you was Bellamy’s birthday party at the bar,” he says. “You were playing pool and you did a whole bunch of trick shots, and your friend kept asking you to explain and you just said–”

“Physics,” Monty cuts him off. Miller nods before lifting his cup to his lips. He cringes a little, the drink obviously still hot. “Want to talk a walk?” Monty asks.

Miller grins again. It’s a nice look on him. “Lead the way.”


	3. random roommate

Nathan Miller knew that picking “random roommate” was a bad idea. But after Bryan had ended things with him there was no way he was going to room with one of his friends, so  _random roommate_  it was.

That random roommate was Monty Green.

Now, Monty Green wasn’t exactly a _bad_  thing, just a _different_  thing. Monty was loud and spontaneous. He had trouble sleeping so he was almost always awake working on _something_ , some prototype or some homework or some video game. And he was messy. Not the bad kind of messy, just the kind of messy that was physically unable to ever be clean. 

And he was cute. He was really fucking cute. 

“Nate?” Monty called from his desk. Their room at Arkadia University was one of the smaller ones and his desk was right next to Miller’s, but Miller was stretched out on his bed with his arm draped over his eyes trying to nap. “You still awake?”

With a sigh Miller swung his arm off of his face. “Yeah. What’s up?” 

“Sorry, you were asleep.”

“I can’t ever sleep in this room,” Miller muttered. He didn’t even know why he tried. Monty was always tinkering with something, creating some sort of noise. Sleep was elusive. “What do you need?”

Miller sat up in time to watch Monty scratch his forehead. He was scanning his notes for some science class with his lips slightly puckered. “How good at chemistry are you?” he asked.

“I’m shit at chemistry, Green.”

“Right. English major. Never mind.” 

Miller scoffed. “What’s wrong with being an English major?” he asked.

Monty’s eyes flickered over to Miller, lingering on his lips just a moment too long before meeting his gaze. “Nothing,” Monty said quickly. “I like literature.” Miller frowned at him. “I just can’t figure out this equation and I don’t think Shakespeare is going to help.” 

Still frowning, Miller rolled out of bed and strode over to Monty’s desk. Monty seemed to tense up as Miller got closer and was frozen completely when Miller leaned over his desk. He scanned the problem in front of him before his mouth curved into a smirk.

“Oh, that’s easy,” Miller said.

Monty’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Miller said, stepping back. “I know how to solve your problem.” Monty looked back to his paper and then at Miller again. “Drop chemistry.”

Monty groaned, “Nate!” And Miller smirked. “That’s not helpful.” He grabbed a pen from his desk and tossed it in Miller’s direction. “You are _not_ helpful!” Miller’s smirk stretched into grin as he climbed back into his bed, hoping to actually take a nap this time. 

* * *

Monty was smitten. 

He was so in love with Nathan Miller that it wasn’t even funny. He tried to play it cool but _Jesus_  it was hard to do. 

One evening when Jasper was coming over to play video games and Monty was setting everything up, he couldn’t find the second controller. He and Jasper had chosen not to room together even though they’d basically grown up together. Something about widening their friend group. Jasper had been placed with a boy named Wells who, like Miller, enjoyed quiet. Jasper was about as quiet as Monty which was to say, not at all. 

“Nate,” Monty called. He dug around their TV, wondering if the controller fell behind the dresser they’d propped they’d set the TV up on, and found nothing. “Nathan!”

“Jesus, Green,” Miller’s voice came from the bathroom. The rooms were set up suite style, so the bathroom was connected to their room. He’d just turned the shower off. “Can you _not_ call me Nathan?”

“It’s your name,” Monty called back. Also it was an amazing name. It sounded great in his mouth. 10/10. Monty kept fumbling around, looking for the Xbox controller, when the bathroom door swung open. “Hey,” Monty tried again, looking up from where he was searching. “Have you seen the…? oh.” 

Nathan Miller in a towel.

Nathan Miller was wearing nothing but a towel.

And okay, they were roommate, Monty had seen him shirtless before, just wearing shorts, probably just wearing boxes. Whatever. This was different. Moisture was clinging to his body and his hips did that V thing and Monty’s throat was thick.

Miller frowned. “Oh?”

Monty cleared his throat. “Controller,” he forced out. “Have you seen the Xbox controller?”

“Didn’t you shove it in your desk drawer, or something?” 

“Right!” Monty turned his back on Miller and fought off the unbelievable red that was taking over his face. “You’re right, you’re completely right, absolutely one hundred percent correct.” 

“And _you’re_  rambling,” Miller said. Monty found the controller. He heard Miller’s towel drop. Not really meaning to Monty’s eyes darted in Miller’s direction, and he swallowed his disappointment to find that he’d already put boxers on. Probably slid them beneath his towel. “Jordan coming over again?”

“He has to kill some zombies,” Monty responded. “Bad day.”

“Hm.” 

Monty, however, was having a good day. A very good, wet-Nathan Miller sighting, day.

* * *

Miller was drunk.

He went to some off campus party with Bellamy and saw Bryan and decided to get drunk. He was over Bryan, sure, but it still stung to see him with his arm around someone else while Miller was too busy pining over his roommate. 

Bellamy dropped Miller off at his dorm and only stopped short of walking him up to his room. There wasn’t any nearby parking and he could get ticketed for even leaving the car for a second.

“I’ll text you when I’m up I _swear_ ,” Miller insisted, though his drunken words were probably not the best thing to go by. 

“I’m texting your roommate,” Bellamy countered, “to make sure you do. If your RA finds you passed out in the hall, Miller, I swear to God.”

“I’m fine, ya big baby.” Miller smirked before sliding out of Bellamy’s car, starting off for his dorm. It took the elevator forever and the world was spinning. Monty met him at their bedroom door. “What’re you doing?” Miller asked as Monty ushered him inside.

“Your friend Bellamy called me?” Monty asked, and Miller laughed. “Should I tell him you’re okay?”

“Yeah, he’ll piss his pants if you don’t.”

Miller stumbled into their bedroom and lowered himself down onto the closest thing possible, which just happened to be Monty’s bed. “It’s nice that he worries about you,” Monty said as Miller stretched out and hummed in agreement. “Nate,” Monty said, lowering his phone after he’d sent the message. “What’re you doing?”

“Tired,” he answered.

“Your bed is like, thirty feet away.”

“I’m already here, Green.” Monty looked incredulous, and it was so fucking cute. And Miller was drunk, so he couldn’t stop himself from saying it. “You are so fucking cute.” Monty froze and Miller’s grin wasn’t going anyway. “Shit, Monty, look at you. One of these days I’m going to kiss you all over your stupid face.” 

“Nate,” Monty said slowly. “How much’ve you had to drink?”

“Not enough,” Miller murmured. He sunk down on Monty’s bed. “You have those memory foam pillows? God damn.” Miller closed his eyes and nestled into a bed that smelled like Monty. “I’m going to steal one of these.”

“You are not,” Monty said with what sounded like a laugh. 

“Am too.”

“Not.”

“I’ll just sleep here every night then,” Miller said with a sigh. And then he was asleep.

* * *

Monty spent most of the next day out of his bedroom. He went to Jasper’s dorn and tried playing video games there but his brain was elsewhere. So far away that he couldn’t even care how horribly he was losing at Rainbow Road. 

Miller had called him cute and he couldn’t get it out of his head.

Finally when it was well into the afternoon and there was _no chance_  that Miller was still sleeping, Monty decided he had to brave it and packed his stuff to head back to his dorm. Thankfully Miller _was_  awake. He was at his desk working on a paper, typing frantically as he read something from one of his books. He turned when Monty opened the door but then immediately turned back to the computer. 

It was only for a second though, to finish his sentence. “Hey,” Miller said. Monty couldn’t say it back. “How was Jasper’s?”

“Fine. Not really feeling Mario Kart today.” Miller nodded, and then added another sentence. “How’s your head?”

“Been better, been worse.”

“So you remember last night then?” 

Miller’s fingers paused on the keys and he pressed his lips together before dipping his head into a nod. “Yep.” Monty nodded a few times and Miller added another sentence to his work. “Sorry.”

“For sleeping in my bed, or…?”

“Cut the crap, Green,” Miller muttered. “I’m into you, you’re not into me, I’ll survive. Sorry to make it weird.”

Monty’s mouth formed a perfect _o_. “That’s–probably not completely true?” 

“What, that I’m into you?” Miller asked, still working on his stupid paper. “No, it’s definitely true.”

“That I’m not into you,” Monty corrected. Miller’s fingers paused, and it was clear it wasn’t because he’d finished another sentence. He tucked his chin toward him before tipping his head in Monty’s direction. “But… we’re roommates.”

Miller licked his lips. His eyes were bright. “Is there a point to that?” 

“And it would be bad. If something were to happen. That wasn’t good. Because we’d still have to live together.” 

Miller licked his lips again before his mouth curved in a smile. “But probably a lot of good things would come out of it too,” he said. Monty started shaking his head left and right. But when Miller said, “Like sex,” Monty’s head immediately started nodding. 

“Lots of sex,” he added. 

“With no one to interrupt.” 

“Wow, okay, I’m convinced,” Monty blurted. The grin on Miller’s face was miraculous and there was a look in his eyes that made Monty feel like his insides were on fire.

“And me sharing those pillows of yours,” Miller added. 

A laugh bubbled out of Monty, “Well, hold on now. Don’t go getting ahead of yourself.”

* * *

Later, on Monty’s bed, with his memory foam pillows, Miller couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. Monty was pressing kisses to Miller’s collarbone again and again and it made everything feel warm. 

Choosing random roommate hadn’t been all that bad after all. 

“Round two?” Monty murmured against his neck.

Miller grinned. Nope, not bad at all. “Round two,” he confirmed with a laugh.


	4. another valentine's day

Nope, Monty was not dealing with this shit right now.

The second tears welled up in Jasper’s eyes he veered out of the room, dug into his backpack for the blunt he brought, and disappeared to the back porch. Maya wasn’t _dead,_ she was just studying abroad in Italy for a semester, but they way Jasper reacted whenever he thought about her was too much for Monty to handle.

He lit the blunt and inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in his lungs until he felt like they were going to burst. He took another hit and turned when Miller stepped out on the porch beside him, shivering just a bit in the cold February air. Monty offered him the blunt wordlessly and he held up his hand in silent declination. 

“You okay?” Miller asked, and Monty shrugged before taking another hit. 

“Just can’t deal with Jasper right now,” Monty told him. “It’s not _my_  fault he’s alone for Valentine’s Day this year.” Miller laughed a little, leaning over the porch railing on Monty’s left. “Besides, it’s not like he’s single. He still has someone.”

Miller arched an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re bitter?” 

Monty smiled before lifting the blunt to his lips again. “Not sure if bitter’s the right word,” Monty said after exhaling more smoke. “Just tired of being reminded of my never-ending single adventure.”

Miller licked his lips before his mouth parted in a smile. “You don’t have to be,” he said.

“Bitter? Or single?”

God, Miller looked good when he grinned. “Both?” 


	5. attention grabber

Miller wondered if he would ever do anything right when it came to Monty Green.

He’d tried everything.

He came back to the apartment he shared with Bellamy and Monty drenched in sweat with his shirt clinging to him from his evening run, _knowing_  he looked good, and Monty turned the other way. He’d stretched out on the living room sofa with a book in hand, ready and willing to look like the big fucking literature nerd he was for the boy, and Monty simply said, “Oh, Thoreau.” 

He’d even stopped shaving because of that one time with Monty offhandedly mentioned he liked Miller better with a beard. 

Nothing was getting this boy’s attention. 

Miller couldn’t take it anymore. He waited until one evening when Bellamy worked late, took two shots of orange flavored vodka that Raven had left over, and strode to Monty’s room before knocking hard on the door.

“You okay, Nate?” Monty asked as Miller entered.

“I’m going out of my mind,” Miller responded. “Am I not your type? Or do you have someone else? Because literally every fucking thing I’m doing is not getting your attention. And if you don’t–I mean, that’s _fine_ , but Jesus let me know so I can stop acting like a goddamn idiot.” Monty’s ears turned red, and Miller paused in the doorway. “What?” he asked.

“You’ve been trying to get my attention?” Monty asked. “Because I’ve been studiously ignoring you for months.”

Miller’s mouth felt dry. “What?” he repeated, his voice a little higher. 

“I thought _you_  had someone?”

“That ended forever ago.” Monty scrambled for a pen on his desk that he was sitting at and threw it in Miller’s direction. “Hey!” Miller called with a little laugh, dodging the throw. “What the hell?”

“You couldn’t have made it more obvious?” Monty asked, tossing another pen at him. “I’ve been losing my mind! You came home  _sweaty_ , Nate! Sweaty! What was I supposed to do about _that_!” 

Miller let out a wild laugh as Monty tossed another pen in his direction, this one landing square against his chest.

Maybe he’d been doing things right, after all. 


	6. another cliche

Monty wasn’t exactly looking forward to going home. 

He’d moved in with Miller a few months ago and things were great, they really were. They’d been dating for almost a year and Miller was surprisingly romantic and affectionate and he _loved_ Monty. Monty knew that. But last week Miller had said something that made Monty’s chest hurt a little.

They’d been stretched out in bed, Miller’s fingers twisting through Monty’s thick hair as he tried coaxing him to stay in bed instead of getting up for work, when Monty remembered what day was coming up.

“Are we doing anything for Valentine’s Day?” Monty had asked.

Miller scoffed. And snorted. At the same time. “I don’t _do_  Valentine’s Day,” Miller had answered. 

And today was Valentine’s Day. And Monty didn’t want to go home. 

He _liked_  the cheesiness of it all. He liked seeing hearts everywhere and he liked trading gifts wrapped in pink and he liked chocolate and balloons and stuffed animals holding hearts that said _love you_. He was at his parent’s house now as old tradition, eating pink-dyed pancakes with chocolate chips. Valentine’s Day wasn’t just about boyfriends, it was about love. And he loved his parents so here he was.

“So how’s that boyfriend of yours?” his mom asked as she cleaned up the plates from their brunch. “Any plans to change that title to _fiance_ soon?”

“Mom,” Monty groaned. “We’ve only been dating like, a year.” 

“So that’s a no?” she asked, sounding disappointed. 

Monty dragged out the afternoon, knowing he needed to get back to his apartment sooner or later. Finally when the sun was starting to set (stupid early February sunset) and his mom was practically pushing him out the door he said goodbye to his parents and climbed into his car to drive back to his apartment. He supposed he and Miller could just watch a movie or something. Being together not celebrating Valentine’s Day was better than not being together at all.

When he arrived he keyed into the apartment, surprised to find it very dark. Was he even  _home?_ “Nate?” Monty called, pushing the door open. He paused in the doorway, surprised to find candles set up around the entire apartment, flower petals tossed this way and that, and his wonderful boyfriend standing there waiting for him. There was a sheepish smile on his face. “You don’t _do_  Valentine’s Day, huh?” Monty asked with a grin.

“Absolutely hate it,” Miller answered. 

Monty strode forward, kicking the door shut behind him. “You stupid romantic asshole,” Monty said with a laugh, and Miller’s face morphed into a grin too. They met in a kiss, eager and warm, before Miller pulled back.

“I’m about to be a cliche,” Miller warned him, and Monty was still grinning. “Because it’s Valentine’s Day and all. But fuck–will you marry me?”

Monty’s grin couldn’t get any wide. “You _asshole_ ,” he said again, laughing wildly before crushing Miller back to him in another kiss as he nodded frantically. 


	7. life-guarding

Monty sat with his ankles in the deep end, staring off at the lifeguard across the pool. Jasper lowered himself to Monty’s side, dipping his feet in the pool too. 

“Either I’m really bad at gathering intel,” Jasper said, “or there’s just no way of knowing.” Monty groaned, leaning backwards on his palms. “Or both, maybe?” 

Monty’d been coming to the pool for weeks now, and maybe he was being a stalker but God the lifeguard was hot. And sure, in this day in age it was more common to just bite the bullet and ask someone out but Monty was not the bravest person in the world. He needed verification that _Nathan_ , or so his name tag read, was gay before he took the plunge. 

“Probably both,” Monty murmured. “No bracelets? Or a pin, or something?”

“Nah.” Jasper’s eyes darted across to the lifeguard. “Pretend to drown?”

“Classic,” Monty said with a sigh. “Except I am _not_  doing that.” Monty puckered his lips. It was a pretty empty day. “Will _you_  ask?”

“No.”

“Jasper,” Monty whined, turning to his friend who looked amused. “Please!” 

“ _No_ ,” he said again. “You can do it, Monty. I believe in you.” 

It took another half hour of complaining or so before Monty forced himself to his feet, walking over to the lifeguard stand. Before Monty could even open his mouth the boy looked down at him and said, “Sound carries across the pool. Name’s Nate. Shift’s over at four if you’re willing to wait.”

Monty paused, arching an eyebrow and marveling at the sight of the grin on his face. “Really?” Monty asked. 

“Really,” he responded with a laugh. “Thanks for not fake-drowning. I’d hate to get all wet under these circumstances.” 

Monty’s face felt warm. “Alright,” he said. “I’ll see you at four.”

“I’ll see you across the pool,” Nate responded with a smirk. 


	8. yours for the night

Monty’s chest was humming with energy, happy that the entire staff decided to go out together. After their big contract win (they _finally_  got Grounders Incorporated to strike up a deal) Bellamy insisted drinks were on him and took everyone to the bar on the corner of the street. Everyone was full of excitement and everyone was smiling and their air just felt charged with success. 

He lifted his drink to his lips and took another sip, his smile growing wider as his chest grew warm. Monty was about to swivel in his seat to scan the room when someone lowered themselves into the seat beside him gracefully, completely pulling Monty’s attention. 

Miller who worked in the cubicle across from Monty had rolled his long work sleeves up his forearms because the air in the room was so warm and it took more of Monty’s attention than it should have. 

“You have a tattoo,” Monty said, surprised to find the dark lines peeking out from under Miller’s shirt. Miller turned to Monty, an amused grin finding his face. They spent a lot of time lingering at the water cooler even after finishing their small paper cups, looking at one another as though waiting for someone to say something they might regret. “I never knew that.”

“Well if button-downs weren’t dress code you probably would’ve seen them before,” Miller told him.

“Them?” Monty asked. “You have more?”

Miller’s grin widened and he nodded his head. Suddenly his fingers were quickly working over the buttons on his soft green shirt. Miller’s cheeks were pink and flushed, clearly he was drunk, but Monty was still completely overwhelmed when he peeled off his shirt, leaving on only his white undershirt. 

He extended his arms to Monty to show him the tattoos. Not quite sleeves, but definitely a collection of different designs all in black ink. A cartoon character, a leaf. They zigzagged across his skin, overlapped one another. Different shapes, different directions, across his forearms, up his finely toned biceps.

“Well fuck me,” Miller murmured, and Monty quickly pulled his hand away. He’d been tracing Miller’s tattoos. Maybe he was a little drunk too. Miller’s grin returned when Monty’s eyes met his. He watched as Miller licked his lips, warm and dangerous, as he forced his arms back into the sleeves of his shirt. “Keep that up, Green,” Miller said, “and I’m yours for the night.” 

“A night is too short, Nathan,” Monty returned, his voice high. He reached back on the counter for his drink to take another swig. Miller placed his hands flat on the counter, slowly edging them in Monty’s direction. “I want more than _that_.” 

Miller’s pinky brushed Monty’s before he tangled them together. “Yeah?” Miller asked. Monty tipped his head in Miller’s direction before dipping it into a nod. Monty had never seen Miller smile brighter than he did then. His eyes lit up and his cheeks were stretched so wide it was a miracle they didn’t hurt. “Really?”

“Hmm.” 

“Wait,” Miller reached out for him, spinning Monty so he would face him. “Look at me.” It took Monty a moment for his eyes to reach Miller’s, lingering on his lips instead of making eye contact, but soon they were gazing at one another. “Monty,” Miller murmured. “Seriously?” 

Monty barely had to tip his head into a nod before Miller’s hand curved up to Monty’s jaw, tugging him forward and pressing his lips firmly to his. Miller tasted like flavored vodka, sweet and warm, and Monty smiled against his mouth. His hands slipped under Miller’s still unbuttoned shirt and pressed into small of his back, pulling Miller toward him. When Miller groaned into Monty’s mouth, his fingers curling by the base of Monty’s neck, someone nearby whistled. 

Monty pulled back and turned, sending Miller leaning in and bumping his forehead against Monty’s cheek. Jasper was spotted as the whistler, and he winked and offered a thumbs up before swinging his arm around Maya and sauntering off toward the darts. Miller had dipped since then, his mouth moving across Monty’s throat down toward his collarbone as though he hadn’t heard the whistle at all. 

“My apartment’s just around the corner,” Monty exhaled, and Miller groaned another time, this time into Monty’s clavicle. Miller’s hand searched for Monty’s before he tangled their fingers together, pulling him from the counter and towards the door without another word.


	9. i wish for you my friend, this happiness that i've found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> contains slurs, mentions of suicide

“Missed you Saturday night,” Monty says playfully as Miller slides into booth across from him in the dining hall. Monday lunches are spent recounting the insanity of the weekend with the gang, but only Miller and Monty have reached their usual table. “I didn’t even notice you sneak out. Left early?” he asked.

Miller nods as he tears off the straw wrapper for his drink. “I wanted to go to the early service Sunday morning,” he says, “so I figured I shouldn’t stay out late.”

Monty pauses at that. “Early service?” he asks, and Miller nods again. “You… church?”

A smile that Monty knows is saved for _only_  Monty graces Miller’s face. They’re not together, but goddammit they will be soon. Monty can feel it in his bones. All they need is one drunken night to handle all of their unresolved sexual tension and _bam_ , instant relationship. 

“Yes, Monty,” Miller says with a little laugh. “I _church_.” 

“Since when?” Monty asks, only looking away from Miller when Raven approaches the table and slides in. “You never talk about it.”

Miller shrugs. “A while,” he says. “Since I was a kid.” Another quirk of his shoulders. “Helped me get through some stuff when I was younger. Just kind of stuck.” Raven scoots up beside Miller and soon Jasper approaches the table too. “No one’s ever asked,” he says. 

But this still isn’t really processing for Monty. That Miller, who spends his nights taking hits from a bong and shoplifting candy from gas stations, can dress up Sunday mornings and go to church. That Nathan Miller, the most sexually active gay guy Monty has ever met, _goes to church_. 

“But, like,” Monty tries. “They don’t…” he trails off, unsure of where to go with this. The curious eyebrow that Miller has raised lets Monty know he has to finish his thought. “Aren’t they like… against… the existence… of… _you_?”

“What’re we talking about?” Raven asks confused, finally zoning into the conversation. 

“Miller’s a church boy,” Monty says. “I just–I could never–”

“Not every form of Christianity is against the _existence_  of gay people,” Miller mutters, cutting Monty off with a frown. “Okay?” 

“I just see all those _God Hates Fags_  signs,” Monty says, feeling guilty when Miller winces. “I don’t know crap about religion,” he admits in a way to salvage the conversation. Because he doesn’t. His family isn’t religious at all. The basis of what he knows about God comes from television and movies and billboards that people put up on the highway that say _GOD IS ALWAYS WATCHING_ next to a guy on a porn website. Considering they’re in a pretty conservative part of Virginia there’re dozens of protests a month at their small liberal school that doesn’t belong in the middle of it. “I don’t even think I _believe_  in God,” Monty says.

“Well to each their own,” Miller murmurs, still looking down at his tray.

“My dad’s Jewish,” Jasper adds after a moment of heavy silence. 

“Catholic,” Raven admits, shrugging a shoulder. “I mean, I go through the motions, but I’m with Monty. I don’t know if I believe in God.” She looks toward Monty, then to Miller again. “There’s a lot of push in Catholicism,” she says to the table. “It can feel hateful at times. I just don’t… vibe, with it, you know?” She nudges Miller and offers a smile, which shows she must know he’s upset considering the two usually spend their time bickering. “Maybe I’ll come with you one of these days,” she says.

“You’re welcome to,” Miller says, still not looking up. 

* * *

It’s Thursday night before Monty gets a chance to talk to Miller about religion again. They’re all sitting around Bellamy’s apartment drinking wine as they watch University of Arkadia’s basketball game on the small television Bellamy has in his living room. 

Somehow Miller and Monty end up away from the rest of the crowd (which isn’t unusual, really, but tonight just feels different). Ever since their lunch Monday, Miller hasn’t really been… talking to Monty as much. So he decides to address it.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Monty says from the corner of the kitchen they’ve retreated to. “And I’m sorry if I did. With that church stuff.”

Miller shrugs. “I know it doesn’t make sense for me to be into it,” he says, “but I am. So.”

“Yeah.” Monty fiddles with his wineglass. “I’m still sorry, though.”

“It’s okay.” They’re both quiet for a moment, and Monty still wishes that that this heaviness between them didn’t exist. “You really don’t believe in… something?” Miller asks. 

Monty gnaws the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know. I might, I guess.” Miller leans back in his seat, waiting for an elaboration. “Everything I’ve ever heard about a god that may or may not exist was… angry,” Monty tells him. “Hateful, spiteful, cruel, close-minded.” 

“Not my God,” Miller responds. 

“It’s just what I’ve heard. And my dad’s an immigrant,” Monty carries on, “so he’s been through a crapton of hardship, and being gay just tacks onto it, and it just doesn’t feel like there’s anyone out there looking out for me. You know?” 

Miller lets the silence hang in the air for a minute. He tips back the rest of his glass and lowers it to the table. Miller glances over his shoulder, back toward the living room where everyone else is gathered, and then down at his hands.

“My mom killed herself when I was 13,” he says, and his voice is so soft Monty’s surprised he can hear it. “It was–it came out of nowhere. Even my dad had no idea…” Miller trails off, shaking his head with furrowed eyebrows. “And for a while I thought about it too.”

“Killing yourself?” Monty asks for confirmation, and Miller nods. Monty leans back in his seat, trying to reassess the boy in front of him, everything he knows about him. 

“I was a gay black kid in the middle of a rich conservative white neighborhood,” Miller says with a faint shrug. “It was hard. And my mom was dead.” He clenches his jaw, clearly not wanting to go into more detail, so Monty reaches out and rests his hand atop Miller’s in silent encouragement. “My dad was worried about me, I guess,” he finally carries on. “Took me to church a lot. And it helped.” 

“Nate,” Monty says softly, “I never meant to… to make it seem like I thought _less_ of you because–”

“No, no,” Miller waves his hand that Monty’s not holding. “Of course not. And I get it–why so many people aren’t into religion, or whatever. Because the world’s shitty. Fuck, we can flip to a news station right now and watch something about a riot or a bombing or a hate crime. Fuck, Donald Drumpf’s a fucking front-runner for president. The world fucking sucks sometimes.” Monty tips his head in agreement. That’s why it’s so hard for him. “But church gives me peace, I guess. Reminds me not everyone’s an asshole.” 

Monty’s thumb rubs across Miller’s. “I like that,” he says. “That you have that.”

Miller rolls his eyes, but Monty swears there’s a faint pink creeping up his neck. “The church I go to,” Miller tells him, “it’s just down the street. Small, Lutheran. I’m the only black guy,” he says with a laugh. “But they love me there.” 

“Well who wouldn’t love you?” Monty asks, and this time Miller doesn’t try to stop his smile. 

They’re quiet another moment before Miller lets out a soft sigh. Monty likes this side of him. The quiet, introspective and thoughtful boy that rarely surfaces. That believes in something greater, something bigger, something brighter. 

“The God I believe in,” Miller murmurs, as though he knows what Monty’s thinking, “is accepting. And forgiving. Because I’ve made a fuckton of mistakes in my life and if He isn’t, well… fuck me, I guess.” 

Monty laughs a little. “That’s nice, Nate,” he says, and again Miller smiles. 

* * *

Sunday morning at 8AM, Monty finds himself sitting to the left of Miller on a small wooden pew in the Lutheran church down the street. Raven’s on the other side of him, and past her is Bellamy who came to support his best friend in their religious quest. It’s… strange. But homey. 

The pastor greets Miller with a smile, saying his full name ( _Nathan!_ ) as though it’s a blessing he’s here and has brought friends this time. The pastor’s incredibly kind to all of them, explaining communion (wine and bread, blood and body) in simple terms, inviting them to join if they’d like (but only Raven goes up with Miller when the time rolls around). 

Miller doesn’t sing the hymns, Monty notes, but he spends a lot of time with his eyes closed. Praying, maybe. Thinking. 

The sermon is about refugees, how they’re called to welcome people, _neighbors_ , with open arms instead of suspicion, and Monty can’t help but agree. Sometimes it feels like common sense. But sometimes people need to be reminded of that. 

Monty isn’t sure when it happens but sometime through the service Miller’s hand finds his. Their fingers are laced together before Monty can even question it (and truthfully, he doesn’t want to). And before he knows it, the service is over and everyone’s filing out of their small wooden pews, back into the narthex for post-church coffee and snacks. 

“I want to look at the welcome stuff,” Raven says. And as though she senses Miller and Monty need a moment she practically drags Bellamy from the room, saying they should bring Clarke with them next week. 

Once the room is empty (which doesn’t take long, considering it’s such a small congregation) Miller turns to Monty with the sweetest smile that Monty’s ever seen. “Thanks for coming,” Miller murmurs. “I know it was probably…”

“Weird?” Monty suggests, and Miller laughs.

“Weird. Sure. But it–it means a lot to me.”

“ _You_ mean a lot to me,” Monty responds without missing a beat. “Of course I came.” Miller is frozen for a moment, and Monty’s entranced by the look on his face. “It was nice,” Monty carries on. “Different. I really did enjoy it.”

Miller’s eyes are bright then. With his freehand he reaches up and cups Monty’s cheek, tipping his chin back slightly so he can press his mouth to his. Of all the times Monty’s imagined kissing Nathan Miller for the first time, it was never in a church. It had always been in the back of a car, or in a dark basement, or after a particularly strong hit from a blunt. 

Their fingers become untangled as they pull one another closer, gentle hands in a gentle place. Miller’s mouth is warm and the small hum he makes when Monty’s hands slide against his hips is bright enough to light the entire room.

But finally Monty pulls back, one of his eyebrows high on his forehead. “Isn’t this sinful?” he asks, his voice hitching from the excitement of it.

Miller laughs and leans in again. “Nah.” He kisses Monty again so easily, their lips meeting in perfect rhythm, that Monty’s scolding himself for not going to church earlier. 

It isn’t until Bellamy and Raven return, tiny chocolate donuts in their hands with mischievous smirks on their lips, do they part for good. 

“Feeling holy, Monty?” Raven teases as Miller and Monty exist the church hand in hand. 

“Definitely blessed,” Monty responds with a grin, to which Miller rolls his eyes despite the smile on his face as well. 


	10. married in vegas

When Miller wakes in the morning, scrubbing his face and trying to stop his pounding hangover, he feels something cold pressing into his skin. It takes him a moment to pull his hand back, and another moment to realize that there’s a golden ring on his wedding finger, and another to realize what that could possibly mean. 

“Mont–” he tries to call out but his voice is thick. Miller coughs. “ _Monty_ ,” he calls. Miller forces himself to sit up, scanning the trashed hotel room that he’s in. There are clothes strewn across the floor and the door to the bathroom is open. He can hear the faint sound of the shower running. “Monty!”

Miller’s head is throbbing so hard that he can’t manage to climb out of bed (though he does manage to sit up), but after a couple of minutes the shower cuts off anyway. A few more minutes pass before the bathroom door is pushed open completely and Monty strides back into the messy hotel room wearing nothing but a clean pair of boxers. There’s a soft smile on his face when he sees that Miller’s awake.

“Good morning,” Monty says brightly.

Miller lifts his left hand and holds it out to Monty, displaying the ring. “Do you have one of these?” he murmurs. 

Monty sinks onto the edge of the bed and holds out his own hand. Another golden ring. “Silver’s more my color,” Monty says, studying the ring with a puckered face as though he’s trying to stop himself from grinning. “But I can make gold work too.” 

Miller tries his damned hardest to frown but it’s always a harder thing to do when Monty’s so fucking cute. “What the hell _happened_ last night?” Miller manages to ask. 

“I think we accidentally got married in Vegas,” Monty answers, climbing onto Miller’s lap. His legs fall around Miller’s hips and Miller groans and Monty dips down, kissing him once. “Oops.” 

Despite himself, despite his throbbing headache and the new ring on his finger, Miller grins. “Showered without me?” he asks, running his hands up Monty’s bare chest. 

“You were asleep,” Monty returns before rocking his hips and getting Miller to groan another time. Miller cups Monty’s cheeks, pulling him down to kiss him another time. “Certificate’s on the coffee table,” Monty murmurs against his boyfriend–wait, _husband’s_ mouth. “I think it’s real. Raven signed as witness.”

“Well fuck,” Miller exhales. Monty’s hands are warm against Miller’s bare shoulders, carefully tracing down his arms not knowing where to settle. “Harper and Monroe are going to be _pissed._ This trip was supposed to be about them getting married, not us.”

Monty pulls back enough so he can kiss Miller’s chin. “Are you suggesting we keep the rings?”

“No,” Miller breathes. Monty kisses him again, this time on the throat. “We need to swap them out for silver ones.” Monty’s answering laugh is warm against Miller’s neck. 


	11. love at first sight

Clarke tries her hardest to fight off her smile, going as far as taking a drink from her glass to not make a big show of the look on her face. It doesn’t help that Monty’s all but oblivious to the boy who just walked in the room and is looking at him as though he’s made of stardust. 

They’re at Raven’s birthday party. She’s turning 21 and to celebrate, everyone brought booze. Monty’s currently positioned on one end of a pong table, tossing ping pong balls into the red solo cups that are stationed across from him. Considering the guy who just came in is with Bellamy, Clarke assumes that’s his roommate Miller. And Miller took one look at Monty before his face lit up in a way that was much too bright to be anything casual. 

“Monty,” Clarke calls, walking over to him and stopping by his side as he tosses another ball into a cup, causing Jasper to groan across the table. “Do you believe in love at first sight?” she asks. 

Monty snorts, turning to his friend. “No. That’s ridiculous. Why?” 

Clarke tips her head to where Miller’s standing with Bellamy by the booze table. “Because that guy just walked in and the second he spotted you–I don’t think I’ve seen heart eyes that bad since Wells first fell for Raven.”

Monty snorts again but turns to look at the boy anyway. When he pauses, the humor on his face fading, Clarke rocks backwards on her heels. Monty’s lips part slightly and he blinks a few times. 

“Clarke?” he asks.

“Monty,” she echoes. 

“I think I’m in love,” he tells her. She laughs, but Monty’s face is still blank as though he’s stunned. “Here,” Monty says, blindly reaching for her hand and forcing the remaining ping pong ball he has into it. “You finish this for me.”

“Monty!” Clarke laughs, slightly thinking that he’s kidding. But Monty strides right in the boys direction looking more confident than ever and introduces himself right away. 

Clarke can’t pick up on most of their conversation over the sound of the party, but the smile that crosses Miller’s face when Monty echoes the boys name (“ _Nate, you said?”_ ) is the loudest thing she’s ever seen. 


	12. movie set love

“Have you ever done this before?” Miller asked, eyeing the man in the seat across from him. _Monty,_ he’d introduced himself as, _and I’m just trying to make a quick buck_.

“Nope,” Monty admitted, his eyes darting toward the giant camera that was rolling across the room. They were on set for a new movie and they’d both been cast as extras in a huge dinner scene, which meant it basically looked the two of them were on a date. “I didn’t think I was good looking enough to be on the big screen,” Monty said.

Miller laughed. “You’re just an extra,” he reminded him, biting his lip before telling the stranger that he was _good looking_. 10/10 good looking, would probably actually take on a date to a fancy restaurant like they were pretending to be seated at now. “Besides, we’re the diversity.”

“A black guy and an Asian guy on a date in the background without any speaking lines,” Monty said, focusing on Miller. They’d been instructed not to look toward Clarke Griffin or Bellamy Blake, the two main stars that were a table away. “Progressive.”

Miller laughed again. “Are you not actually gay?” he asked.

“No, I’m very gay,” Monty said. “You?”

“Very gay,” Miller echoed. His eyes flickered toward the table off to the side, the one where Bellamy was currently holding Clarke’s hand. “He’s one of my best friends,” Miller said. “From high school. Which was how they got my name, I think.”

Monty eased a little, a smile lighting up his face. “Same with me and Clarke,” he admitted. He glanced over at Bellamy and Clarke again, that smile still there. “It’s so weird that she’s famous.” 

“God, I spend so much of my life talking about Bellamy,” Miller muttered. “Can we talk about something else?” 

Monty agreed wholeheartedly so they quickly switched subjects. More than once they had to pause their conversation because the director yelled cut, having Bellamy and Clarke start over their scene, but overall they just sat back and got to know one another. 

Monty, it turned out, was an astrophysicist who was currently taking some time off because, in his words, space was stressing him out. He and Clarke went to the same high school and were pretty good friends, considering he did a lot of her chemistry homework for her because she was _not good_ at it. He currently lived in Southern California with another one of his friends, Jasper, but he was probably moving in with his girlfriend soon so Monty would have to be looking for another place to say. 

Miller spoke about his love for Broadway and plays and dramas, how he preferred reading the scripts to things rather than actually watching them because it felt that there was so much more in words than there were in actions sometimes. His ex-boyfriend had moved to Canada to work at ski-resort just because he wanted the adventure and Miller didn’t want to go with him, so they broke up and he’s been single ever since. 

Talking to Monty was easy. It felt like they actually _were_ on a date at times. The actor-waiter kept coming over to refill their cups and Miller couldn’t wipe off the sweet smile from his face and it just felt _real_. 

“Excuse me.”

It was hard for Miller pull his eyes from Monty, bright and welcoming, but he turned to the man who approached them anyway. “Something wrong?” Miller asked.

“Oh, um, well. The director sent me over here…” he trailed off, and Miller scowled. This was probably something Bellamy did, some stupid-ass joke just to get a rise out of Miller. “I have to ask you two to switch tables,” he said.

“What.”

Monty rocked backwards in his seat. “Bad shot?” he asked the man.

“Oh, it’s. Um.” The man looked awkwardly over his shoulder. He was probably an intern working on the set, official but not _very_  official. “It’s just–he said that, um,” the man’s face started turning pink. “You’re stealing the shot.”

Monty laughed. “What do you mean?”

“The scene is for Bellamy and Clarke,” the man said. “And they’re supposed to be having a very deep conversation, as I’m sure you know. But um… it looks like _you two_  are falling in love in the background.”

Monty turned to look at Miller, one of his eyebrows high on his forehead. “Tell Bellamy to fuck off,” Miller said, waving his hand at the man. 

“I’m– _what_?” the man asked. “I–”

“It’s fine,” Miller said. “I know he set you up to this. Just tell him to shut up, yeah?”

“I–sir, I honestly was sent by the director. Marcus Kane? Over there, with the megaphone?” 

Miller turned to look at Kane and scowled, finding him staring in their direction as well. “Well tell Marcus Kane to fuck off too, then,” Miller muttered. The intern went pale. “We’re alright, here.” 

“I–”

“Go,” Miller cut him off.

Monty laughed as the intern scrambled away and he reached across the table to grab Miller’s hand. “He was just doing his job, Nate,” Monty said softly. “And he wasn’t that far off. I could sit here for hours.”

 _Nate_. When had Miller told him his first name? Probably sometime in the middle of their conversation. He glanced down at his watch and realized they’d been here for a few hours but it hadn’t _felt_  that long.

“Monty…” he trailed off, looking at where their hands were laced. 

Before he can say anything else Miller felt heavy hands on his shoulders. “Falling in love, Miller?” Bellamy asked with a grin as Miller and Monty returned their hands to themselves. He extended his hand to Monty who shook it. “Bellamy Blake.”

“Monty Green,” Monty returned.

“Clarke’s friend,” he noted, and Monty nodded.  “Can you two stop hogging the spotlight?” he asked.

“You’re not funny,” Miller muttered. 

“I’m not _joking_ ,” Bellamy returned. “Kane’s pissed.”

“Your heart eyes are out of control,” Clarke chimed from over his shoulder with a smirk. “But it’s okay. Kane changed his mind about a reshoot–said we’ve got it. You two are free to go.” 

Miller glanced around the set and realized everyone was being told the same thing, that they were free to go. Monty stood with a smile that was just as bright. “It’s okay,” he said. “Miller was just about to tell me something.” He looked toward Clarke and smiled a different sort of smile, “We’ll show ourselves out.”

Miller was about to say something else but instead Monty tipped his head and Miller knew he should follow. They both said their goodbyes to their respective friends before heading off set, close enough that their arms were brushing. Finally they were alone again, at least out of the way of their friends, and Miller turned back to Monty. 

“Monty,” he started again. “Would you like to go on a date with me?” he asked.

Monty smiled. “We already did that.”

“Oh, don’t be a tease,” Miller said, rolling his eyes. “Another one. A _real_  one.” 

“Well I hear your heart eyes are out of control,” Monty said, echoing Clarke’s words from earlier, “so I think I’d be an idiot to say no.”

Miller reached out, tangling his fingers with Monty’s. “Then I know just the place.”


	13. jersey days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three times Monty wears Miller's jersey, one time Miller takes it off

_1._

Miller’s still half-asleep when he first sees Monty wearing his hockey jersey. 

Ever since half of the gang moved into a townhouse together, things have been hectic. They decided to save some money after college by all rooming together but Clarke and Bellamy threw a wrench into those plans when they got engaged and wanted to get an apartment together. The townhouse they’re renting is pretty big. Raven’s entire domain is the basement and Murphy’s made his home in the attic. Jasper and Monty and Harper all have rooms on the second floor, and Miller and Octavia have rooms on the ground floor that were probably meant to be offices, or something.

Actually, it’s probably a good thing Bellamy and Clarke aren’t squeezed into this place too. 

Miller stumbles out of his bedroom and makes his way into the kitchen for a very necessary cup of coffee when he sees Monty in his jersey. It’s way too big for him considering Miller’s a little more bulky than Monty and he needs to wear padding and such when he’s actually _playing_  on the ice, but whatever.

Monty looks adorable. 

“Morning,” Miller finally calls, his voice still thick from sleep, and Monty turns from the counter to look at him. He smiles sweetly and Miller’s chest does something funny. “You go through my drawers without telling me?” Miller asks, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“Morning,” Monty answers. “What?”

“My jersey.” 

Monty looks down at himself and his face pales slightly. “Oh, I…” he trails off and Miller heads straight for the coffee machine. “It’s colder down here than it is upstairs,” Monty tells him, tugging at the hem. “Sorry. It was on top of the dryer, I just–”

“It’s fine,” Miller says, waving his hand. 

Maybe it’ll smell like Monty next time he wears it. 

_2._

Miller’s just gotten out of the shower when he hears an urgent knock on his bedroom door. He pulls on a pair of boxers before heading to answer it, knowing if it’s Murphy he’d do something stupid to try and make him drop his towel. When he pulls open the door and sees Monty in the hallway Miller pauses, tipping his head slightly. 

“I need help,” Monty says, pushing his way into his room. Miller’s lips quirk and he turns to where Monty’s standing by his bed. “It’s casual Friday at work today,” Monty says, “and I don’t have a jersey to wear.” 

Miller arches an eyebrow. “What kind of jersey are you looking for?” he asks, starting for his closet. “I’ve got football ones, a lacrosse one from high school…” he trails off, digging through his stuff. 

“Can I just wear your hockey one?” Monty asks. 

Miller pauses. He looks over his shoulder at Monty who shifts awkwardly on his feet. Miller turns away to hide his grin before shrugging slightly and looking back at him again. “Isn’t it a little big for you?” Miller asks. 

“Aren’t jerseys supposed to be big on people?” Monty returns. 

 _Not_ that  _big_ , Miller thinks. But he’s weak, and Monty’s so fucking cute, and he doesn’t mind. “Sure,” he finally answers, annoyed that his voice cracks. Miller crosses the room and digs through his drawers, knowing he just put his laundry away last night. 

He’s part of a club team for adult men, and mostly it’s just a stress reliever. Part of him wants to coach for the nearby high school but he’s working his ass off trying to get into the good graces of his current boss, and taking up a second job probably wouldn’t help him much. 

“Thanks,” Monty says as Miller tosses him the jersey. “It looks good on me,” Monty teases as he slips it over his head, “yeah?”

He leaves before Miller can respond. Almost down to his knees, loose and unflattering, the answer is yes. Absolutely. 

_3._

Miller comes home early from one weekend practice to find that the townhouse smells like bleach. He’s barely in the door when the sounds of poppy-EDM music attacks him and he pauses before he can take another step into the hallway. 

Harper appears a few moments later. “Shoes off!” she shouts. She’s wearing a long t-shirt that goes down to her knees and has thick socks rolled up her calves that she’s using to slide across the hardwood floor. “We just waxed!” 

“Cleaning day?” Miller asks, dropping his bag off to the side before bending down to remove his shoes. 

“Raven’s ex-boyfriend showed up last night,” Harper says as she rights herself. The ground is slippery and she’s trying not to fall over. “Puked in the kitchen. We were just going to clean there but it got a little out of hand.”

“Fucking Wick,” Miller mutters. “Why did she even let him in?” 

Suddenly Monty shouts, “Incoming!” There’s a blur of color and then Monty collides with Harper with an _oof!_ “Hey, Nate,” Monty says with a grin, using Harper’s shoulders to keep his balance. 

Monty’s wearing his jersey. 

The familiar tug of warmth in Miller’s chest is tripled. Monty’s hair is tousled and his smile is bright and _he’s wearing Miller’s jersey_. Miller doesn’t know why Monty is drawn to it, why he always tugs it on when he’s got nothing else to wear, and he doesn’t want to ask. Because he’s so _fucking cute_. Miller longs for a future like this, where Monty can pull on his jersey whenever the hell he wants and there’s no question there, it’s just natural. It’s a normal thing to see, Monty in Miller’s jersey. Monty in Miller’s clothes. Monty in Miller’s bed. 

But he’s getting ahead of himself. 

“Hey,” Miller finally forces out. “Don’t get any bleach on that,” he says, gesturing to the red fabric Monty’s wearing. “Yeah?”

“I’m extra careful,” Monty answers. No beat of hesitation. No _sorry for wearing it again_. Just, of course I’m extra careful because why wouldn’t I be? Monty winks and then he tugs on Harper’s hand. “First one to the kitchen wins!” 

Harper grins knowingly before chasing after Monty. 

Miller tries his hardest to stop himself from smiling, too. 

_+1._

The remnants from Clarke and Bellamy’s engagement party are _epic_. Miller knows that if he doesn’t at least _start_  on the cleaning tonight that there’s no way he’s going to want to conquer such a mess in the morning. 

Almost everyone else already went to bed, so many of their friends scattered around the house sleeping off their drunkenness. Murphy’s taken Emori to his room, Jasper wasn’t drinking and Maya had to work in the morning so he’s driving her home, Raven fell asleep on Wells in the living room, Lincoln carried Octavia to her room a few hours ago, and the last time Miller saw Monroe it was when Harper was trying to coax her out of sleeping in the tub.

Miller doesn’t mind cleaning up. Monty and Jasper set up the party which was a lot of work, it makes sense for Miller to do some of the cleanup. He’s also still a little drunk so he feels _super_  helpful starting before going to sleep. 

He’s just finished cleaning the kitchen counter of wine glasses when Monty stumbles into the kitchen, rubbing at his eyes with a sleepy smile. “What are you doing?” he asks with a quiet laugh. No one’s really in the vicinity of the kitchen, but the house feels quiet anyway, like they should be quiet too. “You should go to sleep, Nate.” 

Miller’s frozen. “You’re wearing my jersey again,” he says.

Monty looks down at his chest then back up at Miller. “I guess I am,” Monty responds. He leans backwards against the counter. “Is that okay?” 

Miller’s mouth feels dry. “Take it off.” 

Monty’s eyebrows shoot to his forehead. “What?” 

“Take it off,” Miller says again. 

Monty’s face falls. “Oh, I…” he trails off, shaking his head slightly. His hands reach for the hem of it. “I didn’t realize it bothered you,” Monty says, his voice quiet. 

But Monty’s wrong. It does the opposite.

He strides across the kitchen to him, cupping Monty’s cheeks and tipping his chin back so he can kiss him firmly. Monty gasps into Miller’s mouth but his lips respond eagerly, moving against Miller’s as though this isn’t their first kiss but maybe their hundredth. Like they’ve been at this for a while.

“Take it _off_ ,” Miller breathes again when they part, and Monty nods frantically. 

Both of their hands work to get the blasted jersey up Monty’s chest and then over his head, and then both of their hands work to get Miller’s shirt off too which is harder to do when they’re kissing. Monty’s mouth is warm and his hands are warmer and Miller’s jersey is forgotten on the kitchen floor. 

Monty’s going to have a trail of hickey’s down his throat but Miller’s wanted to kiss his collarbone for so fucking long he doesn’t care and he hopes to God that Monty doesn’t care either. 

“My room,” Monty nearly pleads as his hands grip Miller’s ass through his jeans. 

“My room’s closer,” Miller tells him. Actually, right here is closer, in the kitchen. And Monty’s already half hard grinding against him through the old gym-shorts that he’s wearing. And Jesus Christ, everyone’s already sleeping anyway. It’s not like anyone would–

Monty tears away from Miller and yanks him hard, tugging him out of his imagination and toward his bedroom. 

–

When Miller wakes in the morning he’s disheartened to find that Monty’s gone. He sits up, rubbing his eyes and squinting into the bright light of his bedroom. Before he can even reach for his phone to check the time Monty enters Miller’s bedroom without even knocking, a cup of coffee in his hands. 

“Morning,” Monty says brightly. 

Miller sinks back into bed. His grin is hurting his cheeks. “You’re wearing my jersey,” he says, accepting the mug carefully. 

Monty shrugs. His smile is just as warm. “I didn’t think you’d mind,” Monty says. 

He doesn’t. 


	14. truth or dare

Monty recrossed his legs beneath him, squinting into the dim light of the room they’d claimed. He shouldn’t have been here. But it was his senior year of high school, and the band was traveling with the football team for the first time in forever because they were playing at some fancy game, and Kane thought it would be a good idea for bandies and football players to room together.

It wasn’t a good idea. 

“Truth or dare?” Murphy asked, tipping his head in Jasper’s direction. Murphy started the game fifteen minutes ago after herding as many people together as he could, and for the hundredth time since he’d settled on the ground Monty reminded himself that he shouldn’t be here.

But Nathan Miller was here. And Monty was in love with him. So. Choose your battles, or whatever. 

“Truth,” Jasper said brightly. 

“Are you a virgin?” Murphy asked.

Jasper’s face flamed red and he shrugged. “Depends who you ask,” he answered quickly. There was laughter from the people in the crowd (Monty knew that Jasper and Maya had done some stuff but hadn’t gone all the way yet, so he figured it was a fair answer). Before anyone could make him elaborate Jasper spun to look at Monty beside him. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare, always,” Monty answered. 

Because he trusted Jasper. Because Jasper was his best friend. Because dares were fun as long as they didn’t ruin your entire life.

“I dare you to make out with Miller,” Jasper said. 

There was more whooping and cheering from the crowd that was sitting around, and it was Monty’s turn to get red in the face. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Clarke stopped the cheering at once. “ _Consent_ ,” she stressed. She turned to look toward Miller. “Good with you?”

“Fine with me,” Miller said, shrugging slightly. 

Clarke held up her hands then, a pleasant smile on her face. “Continue, then,” she said. 

Monty’s eyes darted in Miller’s direction and again he shrugged with one of his shoulders. “I hate you,” Monty exhaled to Jasper as quietly as he could before his friend grin and pat him on the shoulder. Monty inched across the floor in Miller’s direction and Miller moved too, past Bellamy and Murphy who both looked smug, so they could meet in the middle. “Sorry,” Monty said softly. 

Miller’s mouth curved into a smile, looking just as smug as Bellamy and Murphy, before asking, “For what?” He reached out then, cupping Monty’s cheek and tugging him hard so their lips could meet. The room was loud with cheering as they kissed and Monty’s hands stretched forward, fisting Miller’s shirt so he couldn’t pull back. But after God know’s how long (not long enough, that’s for sure) someone yelled _time!_ and the two finally parted. “Damn, Green,” Miller exhaled, centimeters from Monty’s mouth. Miller licked his lips and Monty watched with fire in his chest. “We should do that again sometime.”

“Without an audience,” Monty suggested as his voice shook.

Miller grinned, finally peeling away from him. “I like the way you think.” 


	15. famous on the internet

“Can I tell you a secret?” 

Miller’s question hung in the air, and it took a moment for Monty to realize that he was talking to him. Monty _was_  the only other person in the living room (they were at Raven and Clarke’s apartment and everyone else was asleep) so he should’ve figured it out, but the wine had made him sleepy. Monty was surprised he hadn’t fallen asleep yet. But he looked at Miller and nodded his head (something much harder to do while drunk). 

“Yeah,” Monty said. “I love secrets.”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Miller said. There was something in his eyes that allowed Monty to know that Miller was drunk, too. “I’m only telling you because I trust you more than anyone.”

“Anyone?” Monty asked. “Bellamy? Raven?”

“Well about this. They would tell people.”

Monty’s lips curved into a smile. “What kind of secret is this, Nate?” 

“One I’ve had since high school,” Miller admitted. 

Monty tipped his head to the side again, something yellow pushing at his chest. “Are you _gay_?” Monty asked in a mock-whisper, and Miller rolled his eyes very dramatically. Miller was out, and Monty thought he was being funny. Which he totally was. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. What’s your secret?” 

“You can’t laugh.”

“I’m drunk. I make no promises.” 

Miller took a deep breath and looked past Monty, to one of the many rooms any of their friends could be sleeping in, before turning to him again. “I’m famous. On the internet.” 

Monty snorted before he could stop himself. “No you’re not.”

“I said you couldn’t laugh. And yes I am.” Miller climbed off of the chair he was sitting on and crossed the room, sinking onto the couch beside Monty. Miller tugged out his phone and Monty tried to right himself, getting tipped over when Miller had settled down beside him. Being drunk with Nathan Miller was never a good idea, considering he always smelled good and looked at Monty with stupid hearts in his eyes, so Monty kept his distance. But he was sleepy-drunk now, and Miller was close, and Monty wanted to curl up against him. “Here,” Miller said. 

He opened his Tumblr app and the blue page loaded. Keeping the phone in Monty’s line of view he clicked the profile button in the bottom corner. A blog popped up by the name of _slytherinkeeper12_ and again Miller clicked a button.

“Holy shit,” Monty gasped. He was completely awake now. “You do _not_ have twelve thousand followers on Tumblr.” He snatched the phone out of Miller’s hand and started clicking buttons, browsing the endless list of followers. “How? Explain this to me.” 

Miller smiled a little, though it was adorably nervous, and shrugged. “You’ll laugh.”

“You don’t post nudes, do you?”

“Fuck you,” Miller said with a laugh, nudging Monty with his elbow. “Of course not.” He clicked the sleep button on his phone and put it away. “It’s worse.”

“It’s _worse_  than nudes?” Not that nudes were bad. Hell, Monty would kill to see Miller nude. And more power to people who were confident enough to post them. But–

“It’s fic.”

Monty’s jaw dropped. “Stop,” Monty said. “You don’t write fic.” Miller pressed his lips together and shrugged. “Stop! Let me read it!” Miller shook his head and Monty reached for his phone. “Nate!” he said, his voice full of laughter. “What kind of fic do you write? Oh my God. This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when you said you had a _secret_.” 

“Shut up,” Miller said. “I’m drunk. And needed to tell someone. And with _Fantasic Beasts and Where to Find Them_  coming out soon I’ve been going _crazy_ –”

“You write Harry Potter fanfiction?” Monty nearly shouted. Miller lifted his hand and covered Monty’s mouth. “Sorry,” he murmured into his palm before pushing it off. “This is amazing, this is the best day of my life. Nate, please for the love of God. I knew you were an English major, but–” he stopped. “Is it Drarry?” Monty asked.

“Jesus, Monty,” Miller said, shaking his head. “No, it’s not Drarry.” 

“Dramione?”

“ _No_ ,” Miller said, laughing this time. 

“I need to know everything about this while you’re still drunk,” Monty said, turning so his legs were under him and he was leaning more onto Miller than originally planned. “Because you will never talk about this sober and now I’m desperate for details. Please tell me everything.”

Miller looked down at Monty fondly, a smile touching his lips as he pulled his gaze from Monty’s mouth. They were so close, and this new secret made Monty feel closer. 

“You can’t tell anyone,” Miller said again, his voice quiet.

“Let me read some and I swear,” Monty said, “I won’t tell a soul.”

It started when he was in high school, writing fic to pass the time. He was gay and bored and wanted more representation in books, so he wrote it. Miller loved the Marauders, and he was _entirely sure_  that Remus and Sirius loved each other too. So he wrote their history. Their gay history. Of making out in hidden Hogwarts tunnels, agony at feeling betrayed when James died, you name it. Miller wrote a lot of fic. More than just Sirius x Remus, though they were his main ship. And it was good. And people liked it.

“Do you still write today?” Monty asked, and Miller shook his head.

“Don’t have the time,” he answered.

“But if you did have the time,” Monty wondered, “would you still write? They have like–a pretty solid fanbase, if I remember correctly.” 

Miller was looking at him again, that sated lazy smile on his face as though he was content to look at Monty forever. “Maybe,” he admitted. “I write drabbles, I guess. Every now and then.”

Monty shook his head. “Twelve  _thousand_ followers.”

“I’m also gay and attractive,” Miller added, sinking more into the couch with his arm drapped over Monty’s shoulder. Wait–when did that get there? “Which doesn’t hurt.” 

“No,” Monty agreed, “that doesn’t hurt at all.” 

Miller pulled out his phone again as Monty leaned into him. “Here,” he said, clicking a few things. “People’ve made fan-art for my stuff. Look.” 

“Oh my _God_ ,” Monty said, tugging Miller’s phone into his hands again. “This is literally the best day of my life,” he said as he scrolled through image after image. “This is amazing. I used to read so much fic…” he trailed off, astounded at the things that people had made for him. “Nate, you should tell everyone else,” Monty said softly.

Miller shook his head. “Nah. They’ll laugh.”

“Okay, probably yes. But also they’ll be astounded.” He looked up at Miller again and realized with a start how close they really were. Monty could feel Miller’s breath on his own lips. “Why’d you tell me?” he asked.

“I’m drunk,” Miller answered quietly.

That wasn’t enough. “And?”

“And you think things like this are neat,” Miller continued. “And I like when you know things about me.” 

Monty licked his lips. “And you wanted to impress me,” Monty said. 

“Because writing Harry Potter fanfiction is really impressive,” Miller said with a little laugh. “ _Right_.”

“It is to me,” Monty said. “I mean, posting your own work online? For thousands of people to see? That’s scary. And brave. And clearly people like it, which means you’re _good_.” Miller swallowed, and Monty watched his Adam’s apple bob. Monty licked his lips again, and Miller’s eyes dropped to watch. “Is it my turn?” Monty asked.

Miller blinked a few times. “What?”

“To tell you a secret,” Monty said. Miller blinked again but nodded and shrugged. _Sure_. “I really want to kiss you right now, probably more than I’ve ever wanted to kiss you before in my life. Which is _a lot_.” 

“What are we waiting for, then?” he asked, his voice strangled. He caught Monty’s cheek and tugged him toward him, leaning in to seal his lips against Monty’s. Monty’s lips moved against Miller’s in response, warm and sure and maybe a little drunk, tasting like wine. Miller’s phone was forgotten as he used both hands to frame Monty’s face, fingers stretching out and sliding until tightening in Monty’s hair. 

“You’re a _nerd_ ,” Monty breathed against Miller’s lips when they pulled back to catch their breath. He felt, rather than saw, Miller’s mouth curve into a smile. “God, you’re hot.” 

Miller laughed before kissing him again, just once, quickly. Soundly. 

Then he tugged Monty toward him again, resting his arm over Monty’s shoulder so Monty could sit with his back against Miller’s chest. Monty nestled into him, a deliriously happy smile on his face. His breathing matched Miller’s.

“You still have to let me read some,” Monty said, acutely aware that Miller was tracing patterns on the nape of Monty’s neck. “Tomorrow, when I’m sober.” 

“As long as I can kiss you then, too.” Monty laughed and nodded, nestling more into Miller’s side feeling content. Miller tipped his head, kissing Monty’s temple, and Monty sighed. “I wrote a fic like this once,” Miller said. 

A bright laugh bubbled out of Monty. “Oh yeah?” 

“Mm.” Miller kissed his forehead another time, and again Monty could feel him smiling. “This is _much_ better.” 

Monty had to agree.


	16. they weren't

They weren’t together.

They weren’t. They weren’t. They weren’t. 

That’s what Monty kept telling himself. He and Miller weren’t together, they weren’t. Maybe they’d been on the precipice of something, about to fall into one another like their friends had been hoping for _years_ it seemed, but that was over now. 

But they weren’t together, and Monty had no right to be so upset. It didn’t matter that when the anniversary of Miller’s mother passed that he sought out Monty, not speaking but holding him so tightly as though he was afraid Monty was next. And it didn’t matter that Miller spent the nights he got drunk tracing his fingers over Monty’s palms, drawing different patterns and designs against his skin. And it didn’t matter that Monty was the only person he ever smiled at, soft and secret, as though Monty alone was a bright spot in what felt like a dark world. 

They weren’t together. They weren’t. 

It didn’t matter that Miller would answer the phone in the middle of the night when Monty called, no matter the reason. That he would rush over to Monty’s apartment without needing an explanation. And it didn’t matter that Miller knew Monty’s coffee order by heart, the right amount of sugar to turn something bitter into something sweet. And it didn’t matter that Miller would find any excuse to touch him that he could, hands on Monty’s shoulders as he leaned in to speak with his breath warm in Monty’s ear, fingers brushing as they sat side by side.

They weren’t together. 

There was never any discussion of what could’ve been, what should’ve been. There was never any kiss. There was never any promise of a future together. There was just the expectation that Monty held that there was _something_. That there was an _almost_. They they just needed to take that final step together. 

“Monty?” Jasper asked, nudging him with his elbow. “You okay?”

Monty blinked hard, tearing his eyes from Miller and Bryan across the room. They’d spent months apart, months broken up, months being _broken_. Fixed in one night. Miller’s mouth carefully covering Bryan’s again and again, soft apologies and softer cries of _more_. 

“Yeah,” Monty rasped. He had to be. “I’m okay.” 

They weren’t together, and he knew they’d never be.

* * *

They weren’t together.

Miller knew that. He knew it very well. He knew with certainty that Monty Green was a better person than he could ever be. Monty had a better soul, a better smile, a better heart. He was better, better. 

But Miller wanted him. He wanted Monty more than he’d ever wanted anyone, any _thing_. Because Monty made Miller feel like he could be better, too. Monty looked at him with laughter in his eyes, his mouth curved into an encouraging and teasing smile all at once. Monty was better, good. And they weren’t together.

So he tried to drown it out. First in alcohol, enough to numb that overwhelming need to corner Monty and confess all of this to him. Secondly in kisses, the mouth of someone else, the mouth of a boy Miller once loved who made him feel better. And with the alcohol, it made sense. Bryan understood him. Bryan knew the different way Miller could speak when he felt a different way, Bryan was familiar. And familiar was nice when _better_  was scary. 

But waking up in the morning in an old pose, his arms draped around Bryan with Bryan’s back against Miller’s chest, Miller was wrecked with guilt.

He let out a short breath, his nose brushing against Bryan’s shoulder as he wished it was someone else. The guilt was tangible, the regret was heavy, the need for something _better_ someone _better_ was desperate inside of him.

The need for Monty. Who was just as familiar but in a way that made Miller feel brand new. 

But they weren’t together. And he knew they’d never be. So he sunk into the pillows and pulled Bryan closer with a sigh. 


	17. just for you and me

Miller’s eyes slip from the page he’s reading as Monty enters the room. Raven’s nose deep in a research paper and Clarke has her head down on her sketchpad and Bellamy’s squinting at the oldest textbook Miller’s ever seen. And when Monty’s eyes meet Miller’s, Monty winks, and Miller has to stop himself from grinning. 

“Coffee,” Monty sings out. Raven sits up straighter, at attention, and Clarke lifts her head immediately with her hand flying out into the open as though she can summon the drink into her palm. Monty moves between their friends and hands them the coffee that they’ve ordered, the coffee he volunteered to pick up for them, before settling down across from Miller. “Got you one too,” he says, passing over a cup.

“I didn’t give you my order,” Miller says lowly.

“I took a wild guess,” Monty returns in a voice just as deep. Miller’s eyes flicker to the drink that Monty got him and again he has to fight off his grin. There’s something in Monty’s stare that says _you know you love me_. 

And he does. 

Miller is 1000% in love with Monty Green. And one of these days he’s going to tell all of their friends and not care what any of them thinks. But for now, it’s just the two of them. 

Miller licks his lips and accepts the drink, rolling his eyes slightly so Monty can see before returning to his book. None of their friends notice.

* * *

  _Jasper_

The door to Jasper and Monty’s apartment is barely closed by the time Miller’s pressed against him, kissing Monty as though this is the last time he’ll ever get the chance to do so. Monty knows that after spending a day together without touching, Miller tends to get a little frantic. But Monty doesn’t mind and he kisses him back with the same amount of fervor, hands clutching Miller’s biceps while Miller’s hands curve around Monty’s hips. 

They’ve been together for almost seven months now and none of their friends had found out. They hadn’t _meant_  to keep it a secret, that’s just sort of how it happened. Miller had been hesitant to announce anything about a relationship because his last one had crashed and burned, and Monty didn’t want their friends to pick them apart. So they started it quietly. And they were still quiet.

It turns out that quiet is more fun. 

“Jasper’s going to be home soon,” Monty forces out as Miller slowly unbuttons his shirt, kissing down Monty’s chest every time a new stretch of skin is revealed. They plan to tell their friends one day. Just not today. “So maybe a little faster?”

“How soon?” Miller murmurs, fiddling with the button of Monty’s jeans before sliding his hands into them to grip Monty’s ass. 

“Too soon,” Monty croaks. 

It takes them a little longer but soon they stumble to Monty’s bedroom, Monty practically tripping over himself because his jeans are starting to pool around his ankles. 

When they collapse side by side on Monty’s bed, sweaty and panting and at ease, Monty allows himself a grin. He tips his head in Miller’s direction finding a smile just as lazy and warm on his face, and Monty thinks he could spend the rest of his life with him. Miller reaches out and slowly slides his hand into Monty’s hair and he looks just as content. 

“Did you have a good day?” Miller asks, his voice nearly a whisper, and Monty nods. “Favorite part.”

“Right now.” Miller rolls his eyes fondly, inching across the bed so he can snatch another kiss. “My boss mentioned I might be getting a promotion,” Monty says when they part. “That was pretty rad.”

“Mmm-hm.” Miller leans in to kiss him again.

“You?” Monty asks.

“I was looking at apartments today,” he says, and Monty arches an eyebrow. “West side, closer to the city? Found a pretty nice one with a good view, price isn’t too bad.” 

“Yeah?” Monty asks. “Living with Bellamy and Murphy is _that_   _much_  of a struggle?”

Miller’s hand slips from Monty’s hair and he traces a finger across the curve of Monty’s shoulder, down the side of his back. “No, they’re fine,” he answers. “But living with _you_ …” he trails off and Monty has to press his lips together to keep from smiling too widely. “Think about it?” Miller asks, and Monty nods another time. 

“Yeah,” Monty whispers. “Yeah. Of course.”

Before either of them can say anything else (what else is there to say when their eyes can say it all? _I love you, I love you_ ) there’s a sound in the living room like a key turning in a lock.

Miller leans in a little too fast, kissing Monty a little too hard, before rolling out of bed. “Fuck,” he says, quickly scrambling around for his clothes. Monty takes a deep breath before joining him in redressing, choosing to grab an old t-shirt from his dresser instead of trying to rebutton his shirt in time.

Monty tugs open his bedroom door before Miller’s got his shirt on and Miller grabs a random book from Monty’s shelf, half dressed and slightly frazzled as Monty exits into the living room. The front door opens just after Monty’s settled himself comfortably on the couch and Miller strides out of Monty’s bedroom with the paperback in his hand. 

“I don’t know,” Miller says as though they’re in the middle of a conversation about a book–completely believable if you’ve ever gotten Miller talking about books. He never shuts the hell up. “I read it in high school and nothing _stuck_. And the reviews are either great or shit.” 

“Hey Miller,” Jasper says as he enters. “What’s up?”

“Murphy brought Emori over again,” Miller responds as he sinks onto the couch, a fair amount of distance away from Monty. “So I came here.”

“Yikes,” Jasper says as he kicks his shoes off. “She’s a screamer.”

Miller frowns. “I know. Hence me being _here_.” 

“Whatever,” Jasper says. He hangs his jacket on the coat rack. “Chinese, then?” 

“Yes please,” Monty says as Jasper strides into the kitchen to find a menu. “I’ve certainly worked up an appetite.” Miller tries not to roll his eyes when Monty winks at him. 

* * *

_Murphy_

Monty coming over after work to play video games isn’t entirely a new concept. Hell, he started coming over _way_  before he and Miller got together. 

Despite being grad students, the entire gang is actually composed of children. They’d much rather race on Mario Kart than focus on their thesis papers or their _real_  jobs. So it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Monty coming over tonight, not that big of a deal.

Only Miller hasn’t seen him for three days and he’s getting antsy. Thankfully Murphy’s in his room when Monty arrives and Miller can kiss him before he dies, trying to squeeze three-days worth of feelings into one warm kiss. Monty must be feeling the same because he slips his tongue into Miller’s mouth, hands diving below Miller’s shirt as he groans. 

“Missed you,” Monty nearly whimpers, and Miller wants to melt. Fucking screw Murphy, Miller wants to pin his boyfriend to the wall. His hands are all over Monty, desperate to feel his skin, when they hear the sound of Murphy’s door opening. 

Miller swallows his whine and steps away from Monty, quickly busying himself with the mail on the side table. 

“Green,” Murphy greets him, almost friendly. He’s been almost-friendly a lot ever since he and Emori got back together. “Rough day at work?

“Got a promotion, actually,” Monty says as he hurries into the apartment, kicking off his shoes as though he hadn’t just had his tongue down Miller’s throat. Miller smiles proudly, knowing how badly Monty wanted that step up at work. He definitely deserves it. “Bellamy here?”

“With Clarke,” Miller answers, “helping her study for some exam.” 

“I’ll get everything set up,” Monty says. 

He starts for the living room and Murphy gives Miller a long look as though he _knows_  something. As though he knows _in general_. Miller narrows his eyes and Murphy tips his head back. He glances over his shoulder, checking to see that Monty’s far enough, before turning back to Miller.

“You gonna make a move on Green today?” he asks, a hint of teasing to his voice.

And Jesus, fuck Emori for turning Murphy into such a fucking sap. 

“You gonna learn how to mind your own business?” Miller tosses back. 

It turns out he _does_ make a move on Monty, despite the voice in the back of his head saying _don’t don’t don’t touch him touch him, God, touch him_. Because when Monty crosses the finish line on Rainbow Road seconds before Miller does, Miller can’t help but reach over and push him in a way that’s just a little too friendly. 

“Asshole,” Miller says, a laugh in his voice as he forgets that Murphy’s here. His hands seek out an area that Miller _knows_  is ticklish and Monty squirms, laughing too. 

He jabs his fingers against Monty’s side again, causing Monty to jump. “Nate!” he laughs, and Miller grins, licking his lips and preparing to smother his boyfriend when Murphy rocks back in his seat causing it to creak. 

Both Miller and Monty turn to look at Murphy before getting back to the game. “I’m kicking your ass on this next one,” Miller says, trying to even his voice considering Murphy’s watching them curiously. 

“Yeah, right.” 

When Monty leaves (they manage another kiss, slow and sweet and with enough feeling that neither of them need to say it _I love you, I love you)_ Murphy practically corners Miller. 

“You’re into him,” Murphy asks. “Aren’t you?”

“Not even a little bit,” Miller lies.

* * *

_Clarke_

“You _are_  into girls,” Clarke asks, giving Miller a curious look. “Aren’t you? You’re bi?” 

“I mean, yeah,” Miller answers, shifting in his seat. He leans toward guys, definitely, at least 70/30, but he’s been with girls a few times too. But that isn’t the problem. The problem is that Clarke is trying to get him to go on a date with said girl, because Clarke thinks that Miller is lonely, and apparently no one deserves to be lonely. “I just don’t want to go on a blind date.”

“Listen,” Clarke says. “She’s completely your type.” Monty’s sitting across the room, trying his hardest not to laugh into his drink as Clarke lays all of this out on the table, and Miller’s trying his hardest not to throw something in his boyfriend’s direction. “A little prickly on the outside, but lovable on the inside.”

Miller smirks. “You don’t know my type at all,” he tells her.

They’re at another party, one that Wells is technically hosting in his and Clarke’s townhouse, scattered across the various parts of the room while getting drunk on various levels. Miller’s had a few shots (he isn’t too good with hard liquor--Monty thinks it’s hilarious) and all he really wants to do is cuddle. But knowing this, Monty has placed himself across the room. 

“Then what’s your type?” Clarke challenges. “Because I can find you someone.”

“Just because you and Bellamy are fucking like rabbits,” Miller says, “doesn’t mean you need to nose your way into my love life. Okay?” 

He has to get her off his back now. Immediately. Because if he doesn’t, Clarke will never give up. Clarke Griffin never gives up. And it’s horrifying. 

“Tell me your type,” she says again. 

Miller meets her gaze and she narrows her eyes, studying him in a way that makes him feel small, so he tips his chin back before reaching for his drink.

“I’m an asshole,” Miller says. “Why would I want another asshole?” Clarke’s mouth scrunches up and, fine, Miller’s definitely drunk, so he just keeps talking. “They have to be familiar,” he says. “Warm. Like, they’ve got to make _me_  feel warm. None of that _hates everyone but you_ bullshit, but more of a _loves everyone but you best_ type of vibe. Fuck prickly shit. Warm.” 

Clarke smiles, and that makes Miller feel smaller. The world is kind of spinning a little. God, he wants to cuddle with Monty. 

“Yeah?” she asks. 

“Mm...” Miller trails off, his eyes darting to Monty across the room who’s looking at Miller as though he’s made of magic, glowing and shining and infinite. “Someone that makes me a better me,” he adds.

“We’ve got to get Miller to drink more,” Clarke calls out to the room while Miller licks his lips, staring at Monty’s mouth. He’s too far away, and Miller wants him closer. “Sounds like someone I know,” she says, a certain look in her eyes that Miller’s too drunk to place. “What else?” she asks. 

“Hm?” Miller wonders, turning back to her. “What? Fuck off.”

Clarke laughs, light and tinkling, and Miller isn’t even sure what they’re talking about anymore. All he knows is that Monty’s warm, and Monty makes him feel good, and he loves Monty more than he had ever anticipated loving anyone ever. If Miller’s an earthquake, unsteady and capable of causing chaos, then Monty’s the flowers that blooms in the cracks. And if Miller’s dark and broken, like the sky when a storm is raging on, then Monty’s the quiet that comes after that makes everything feel grounded again. 

Monty is so much, and Miller loves him completely and entirely. 

“Someone’s had enough to drink,” Miller hears, and it’s Monty’s voice a lot closer now. “Don’t be mean,” Monty says to Clarke with a laugh. “He’s not as good at handling liquor as the rest of us.”

“You fuck off too,” Miller says, but there’s no bite behind it at all. And by the way Monty’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, Miller knows that Monty understands that. “I’m fine.”

“C’mon,” Monty says, extending his hand to Miller who reaches to accept it without even thinking. “You set your stuff downstairs, right?” Monty asks, fully knowing where Miller threw his sleeping bag earlier. None of them are planning to drive, so crashing at at Wells and Clarke’s house is their option. Miller has a nice couch all to himself in the basement. “I’ll put you to bed.”

Miller grumbles a little bit, but just because there’s a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that reminds him that he should. But then he and Monty are alone downstairs in the dark and Miller’s not grumbling anymore, he groaning into Monty’s throat as Monty pins him down on the couch. 

“ _Monty,”_ Miller rasps, desperate to get his shirt off and feel his skin, but Monty pulls back with a mischievous smile. Their eyes have adjusted to the low light and Monty pins his forehead to Miller’s, their noses bumping and their mouths just centimeters apart. “Monty,” he says again. 

“Do I make you feel warm?” Monty asks. 

“You make me feel _everything_ ,” Miller exhales.  

* * *

_Bellamy_

With Murphy staying at Emori’s and Bellamy dog-sitting for Octavia and Lincoln who’ve decided to take a sudden trip to Las Vegas (which the gang is betting on if they’re getting hitched or not), Miller doesn’t worry about having Monty over for a movie.

It’s nice, the two of them snuggled together on the couch in the open without worrying for once that someone’s going to walk in on them. Monty’s nestled against Miller, his hand curled against Miller’s chest, and everything feels right. This is a movie they’ve seen a couple times before ( _Interstellar_ , Monty’s in love with it) so it’s okay that they take a few minutes every now and then to kiss and another few minutes to catch up about their day. 

“So I was thinking,” Monty says at one point, his fingers tracing down Miller’s chest. “About that apartment, thing.” 

Miller tenses, not exactly meaning to. “Moving in together, you mean?” he asks, and Monty nods. But then he’s quiet, and Miller feels his heart starting to get heavy in his chest. With the way he’s pressed against him, Miller wonders if Monty can hear his heartbeat. “Listen,” Miller murmurs. “If it’s too fast--”

“Stop,” Monty cuts him off. He looks up at him, pressing a warm kiss to Miller’s chin. “No. I want to.” Miller shivers with relief and he feels Monty smile as he kisses Miller’s chin another time. “But that means we have to tell them, you know.” 

Miller looks down at him and nods. “Would that be okay with you?” Miller asks.

“What,” Monty wonders, “finally getting to jump my boyfriend’s bones in public?” Miller can’t fight his smile as Monty grins at him. “That would be perfectly okay with me. What about with you?” 

Miller reaches down, cupping Monty’s cheek. “I’m in love with you,” Miller tells him. And his voice is sure, sure, so _sure_  that Monty’s eyes light up with immediate belief that this is true. Not that there was doubt before, not that they doubt how the other feels, but sometimes it’s so _nice_ to hear it. To say it. “It would be fine with me if they knew.” 

Monty leans into Miller’s touch and nods. “I love you,” Monty says. “Like, really, a lot.” 

Miller laughs. “Mm-hm.” Monty shifts, curling himself back against Miller. 

“Just...” Monty starts, and Miller’s smile slips a little bit. “Maybe not yet?” he asks. “What if we just--what if we just move in together, you know? Throw them all off.” Miller looks down at him again and finds that typical, mischievous glint in his eyes. “It’s hot,” Monty says, “isn’t it?” 

“Sneaking around?” Miller asks with a laugh, and Monty nods. “It is,” he agrees. God, he’ll miss it. Walking in to meet their friends just minute after having his hands down Monty’s pants. Scrambling to right themselves before someone walks in on them. But that isn’t the point. “We can wait,” Miller reassures him.

And it’s a good thing they come to agreement on that before Monty falls asleep against him, his chest rising and falling slowly as he sleeps peacefully. Miller twists his fingers through Monty’s hair and sighs happily. Because this will be commonplace, soon. The two of them nestled together without a care in the world. Miller wants to trace his fingers over the curve of Monty’s nose, across his soft cheeks, over Monty’s forehead. But instead he just watches him, cozy and safe and warm by his side.

Christ, he’s perfect. 

But then Miller hears keys. And keys means Bellamy. And Bellamy means waking Monty up. But Monty looks so--oh, God, he looks so cute. Oh God, no. 

“Monty,” Miller whispers, dipping down to kiss his forehead. “Baby, Bellamy’s home.” Monty shifts, blinking a few times. “Baby,” Miller coaxes him away. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, moving them as Monty rubs his eyes and blinks hard. “There you go. Up, up.” 

“Nate,” Monty reaches for his boyfriend again, trying to snuggle up to him again, but there’s a key in the lock. And Miller knows they just talked about it, and Bellamy finding out isn’t the worst and this would probably just be so much easier, but out of habit Miller stands anyway allowing Monty to sink into the warm spot that he’s left on the couch. “Ugh,” Monty cuddles the couch instead, a lazy smile on his face. “Love you.”

Miller aches to join him but then Bellamy’s entering, muttering something under his breath about that _damn dog_   _getting his damn fur all over the place_  and Miller busies himself, cleaning up the wine glasses he and Monty drank from earlier. 

“Shhh,” Miller says quickly as Bellamy goes to shut the door. “Monty fell asleep.”

Bellamy arches an eyebrow as he closes the door quietly. “Monty’s over?”

“Jasper had Maya over,” Miller says dismissively, starting for the kitchen with their cups. “We watched Interstellar and talked about that, uh,” Miller sets the glasses down and snaps his hands, trying to come up with the right word. “What was it, that rally that happened today in the city? Monty’s boss helped organize it.”

“Oh.” Bellamy smiles, that same smile that Miller’s seen before on so many other people’s faces. “Cool. He crashing here?” 

“He had some wine,” Miller says, “so probably.”

“Cool,” Bellamy says again. He shakes off his jacket, smiling another time. “I’m headed to bed. Nyko has too much energy for a 3 year old dog. I’m beat.” Bellamy’s eyes flicker to Monty. “You got him?” Bellamy asks.

“Yeah, no problem.”

Bellamy dips his head into a nod. “Cool,” he repeats. And that smile’s still there, the one that Miller knows means something else.  

* * *

_Raven_

Miller’s half-asleep when he checks his phone. So really, it’s his fault. 

When he sees the message _What are you doing tonight?_ he isn’t sure why he thinks it’s from Monty. Maybe because he was having a great dream, and the little _ding-ding_ of his phone woke him up. 

His response was simple. _You. Obviously. What time is Jasper leaving, again?_

And then he fell back asleep. 

Monty finds him in the library working on his thesis, his footsteps a little too fast and his eyes a little too wide. “I got a text this morning,” Monty says, settling into the chair directly next to Miller. “A very concerned, confused, excited text. From Raven. Well, a lot of texts.”

Miller arches an eyebrow. “Yeah?” he asks.

Monty slides his phone over to Miller, the texts open, and Miller’s stomach drops. Because he didn’t text Monty back this morning when he was asleep, he texted Raven. And then Raven texted Monty a screenshot of it. Along with the following texts: 

 _**-so either miller wants to fuck you, or you and miller are already fucking** _  
_**-or maybe both** _  
_**-is it both? there’re bets going on and i’ve got MONEY ON THIS** _  
_**-also jesus i called this so long ago** _  
_**-but really, are you fucking miller** _  
_**-i really hope the answer is yes** _  
_**-please** _  
_**-please** _  
_**-please** _  
_**-but also maybe more than that. like fucking. but with feelings.** _  
_**-are you fucking miller with feelings????** _  
_**-MONTY ANSWER ME** _  
_**-you have your read receipts on!! i know you’re reading these!!!** _

“Fuck,” Miller says. He looks up at Monty, pulling his hands away from Monty’s phone. “Fuck. Monty, I--”

And then Monty laughs. Miller’s on the verge of gushing out with an apology when Monty _laughs_ , the sound so ridiculously silly that it causes Miller’s heart to stutter in his chest. It’s not even just, like, one laugh. It’s a lot of laughter, bright and giddy and so fucking cute that Miller doesn’t even know what to say. 

“ _Nate_ ,” he manages to get out, but he’s still laughing, and Miller’s mind isn’t working fast enough for his mouth. 

“Monty,” Miller says, cupping his boyfriend’s cheeks to get him to look at him. “Stop laughing!”

“You t-told _Raven_ ,” he bursts, gasping for air as he laughs. “In the--the _best way_  I could have _ever_...” he trails off, still trying to regain his breath. He arches forward, still laughing and grinning and bright, and kisses Miller on the mouth. In public. In the library. “I love you,” Monty giggles against his lips and Miller’s speechless. He’s just speechless. “I’m so in love with you, Nate.” 

And then Miller’s kissing him back, giddy himself from Monty’s laughter and the way he’s looking at him, so warm and sure and centered that Miller’s insides feel like the good kind of static. His other hand swings up to cup Monty’s other cheek so he can get a better hold on him and then they’re kissing, and kissing, and kissing, and the sense of urgency and panic that used to be there is gone. Because it’s over, and they don’t care, and they can do this wherever they want without needing to stop. 

“I knew it!” 

Miller breaks away, tipping his head to the sound of Raven’s voice who’s just entered that zone of the library. There’s a hiss from someone nearby that sounds like a shush and Raven frowns at them before flipping them the bird. 

Monty’s still so close that Miller can feel him grinning, and Miller can’t stop himself from grinning too. 

“Bellamy owes me twenty bucks,” Raven says.

Monty tips forward a bit and kisses Miller on the chin. “I love you,” he whispers. Because everyone can know, but that love is still just for them. 


	18. monty's bi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3x14 spoilers kinda

Monty pulled away, his mouth still warm and his body humming, clinging to Miller’s shoulders. “I’m bi,” he said. Miller licked his lips, forcing his gaze up from Monty’s mouth to meet his eyes. “I know people are weird about that,” Monty rambled on. “But I just, I figured I should tell you now before we go any further, and–”

“Monty,” Miller cut him off with a laugh. He cupped his cheeks and kissed him as though he was delicate, as though he was fragile. “For starters, _I know_.” He kissed him again, licking his way into Monty’s mouth slowly. “You fucked Harper like, last year.”

“It was weird and just once,” Monty whined.

Miller grinned, kissing him again. “Whatever. But secondly,” Miller pinned his forehead to Monty’s. “I don’t care. Jesus Christ, I don’t care. You can love whoever you want.”

“ _You_ ,” Monty exhaled. 

“Mm–yes, okay.” Miller wouldn’t stop kissing him. “Yeah. Okay. Good. I like that. Me.” 

“You,” Monty repeated. His heart was soaring. He’d dated so many people that shrunk away the second he found out he was into girls too, and Miller didn’t care, he didn’t care. “Like, Nate,” Monty continued, his voice hitching as Miller moved to his throat. “You’re like, top-tier.” Miller laughed against Monty’s skin and the sound was pure, and it was good. It was good. 

“I mean, true,” Miller murmured. “But hearing you say it is a damn blessing.”

“I’ll say it as many times as you want,” Monty said. 

They collapsed in Miller’s bed together, not caring about the world outside their room, only knowing that together they were right. 


	19. experiments

“I’ve never been with a guy before.”

That’s how it starts.

All of their friends are stretched out on the living room floor of Clarke and Raven’s apartment, Miller and Monty with their backs against a nearby wall as they watch Murphy shove his tongue down Bellamy’s throat. There’s a whoop of laughter and the two part with cheeky, equally mischievous grins before returning to their spots. Truth or dare with the gang is always bound to be fun. 

Miller tips his head in Monty’s direction, his eyes darting down Monty’s body before reaching up to meet his gaze. “Because you’re not into guys,” Miller responds to Monty’s quiet statement. 

They’re not playing truth or dare, both a little too stoned to move from where they’ve tucked themselves away. Miller’s not a big fan of truth or dare anyway, and he’s already made out with most of the people in this room, but watching is just as fun. 

Monty shrugs. “I wouldn’t know,” he says. 

Miller pulls his eyes from the boy beside him and focuses back on the game of truth or dare that’s going on where Bellamy’s now holding his hands over his eyes as Raven prepares to do a body shot off of Octavia. He’s been fighting this awful crush he’s had on Monty Green for a _very long time_. Because Monty’s not into guys. So it’s pointless to pine. It’s been pointless the whole time. He shouldn’t be getting his hopes up like he is now. 

And still Miller says, “Would you like to?” 

The room cheers again as Raven takes her shot and Bellamy manages a shudder, but Monty’s a little tense beside Miller. He doesn’t repeat himself, partly because he knows Monty’s going to laugh, or something, but also partly because he doesn’t have the courage. 

“What would that entail?” Monty finally asks. 

That’s how they end up leaving the party early, murmuring something to their friends about work, making out in the backseat on Miller’s car. 

“Tell me if you ever want to stop,” Miller manages at some point, but Monty doesn’t. 

They kiss and they kiss and they kiss, Monty’s thumbs brushing curiously over Miller’s stubble, Miller’s calloused hands slipping under Monty’s shirt. It’s greedy, Miller knows that, but if this the only chance he’s going to get to kiss Monty Green then he’s going to take it. 

* * *

Miller wakes up in the morning with hickeys along his neck and across his collarbone. When he looks at himself in the mirror, poking the bruises that Monty left, Miller thinks, _okay_. 

He can move on now. 

He had his moment with Monty while Monty was questioning his sexuality, and that’s fine. All Miller needed was a moment. He can wrap up his feelings for Monty now and ship them far away, never to be seen or thought of again. 

Miller stretches his neck to observe the marks more clearly. He won’t admit to liking them. 

* * *

 

**_From Monty - 11:36 PM  
hey. busy?_ **

Miller re-reads the message a few times before responding. It’s Friday night and the work day was long, but any and all tiredness that had been weighing him down evaporated the moment he saw that Monty had texted. 

**_From Miller - 11:40 PM  
Just reading. What’s up? _ **

**_From Monty - 11:40 PM  
want to come over? jasper’s out. _ **

Again Miller re-reads the message a few times. His mind strays to that night a few weeks ago when they were crowded in Miller’s backseat and Monty climbed onto Miller’s lap, grinding his hips forward and eliciting a groan from the man under him. Monty had been sucking hard into Miller’s neck then, Miller’s hands gripping Monty’s thighs as he lost himself in the moment.

But that was a one time thing. 

**_From Miller - 11:42 PM  
Sure. Any particular reason? _ **

Miller watches as the (...) pops up once, then disappears. Then again, then disappears. Then again, and disappears. It stays gone for a long time. And then--

**_From Monty - 11:45 PM  
want to test a theory? _ **

* * *

 

If Miller thought making out with Monty Green was great, there weren’t any words to describe a blowjob from Monty Green. 

Miller can remember it in snapshots, but not all at once. His fingers tangled in Monty’s silky hair. Monty’s warm, tentative mouth. The heat that exploded in his chest as he moaned Monty’s name. The aftermath, lying side by side in Monty’s bed with both of their chests heaving as though they’d run a marathon. The curious look on Monty’s face as he looked at Miller as though he hadn’t ever seen him before. 

“It was good, right?” Monty asks a few days later when they’re all in Bellamy’s apartment. “You’re not avoiding me because it was bad. _Right_?”

Miller has enough decency not to laugh. It could’ve been the worst blowjob on the planet (it wasn’t), but that didn’t matter. What matters was that it was _Monty_  who’d given it, Monty who’d _wanted_  to give it.

“I’m not ignoring you,” Miller says. They’re adults with busy lives, it’s not either of their faults. “It was good.” He licks his lips. “Really good.” Monty’s staring at Miller’s mouth. “Was it good for you?” Miller asks.

After Miller came he wrapped his hand around Monty and tugged until he came in his hands, latching his mouth to Monty’s throat in the meantime and encouraging him along with breathy words. 

Monty’s mouth quirks into a smile. “Really good,” he echoes Miller’s words.

* * *

 

It happens a few more times, but it’s just sex.

It’s just sex. 

Miller knows that it’s just sex. 

But when he wakes up in bed with Monty wrapped around him as though he’s his lifeline, Miller’s heart stumbles unfamiliarity in his chest. Monty’s warm and he’s breathing slowly, softly, still asleep, and Miller waits. 

He tries to imagine a life like this, where waking up with Monty clinging to him is normal. Where falling asleep after sticky, perfect sex is commonplace. Where Monty nuzzled into Miller’s side is where he’s supposed to be. 

Miller doesn’t realize he’s started toying with the ends of Monty’s hair until Monty stirs and then buries himself closer, readjusting and snuggling against Miller as though they’ve done this before when they truly haven’t. It’s a gesture so unassuming and so innocent that Miller feels like he’s on fire. He pulls away from Monty as fast as he can, yanking himself away and sitting up so quickly that Monty lets out a gasp of surprise. 

“I gotta go,” Miller says, swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress. Monty rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. Miller doesn’t move. He doesn’t know why. “I can’t do this anymore,” he finally says, and the words echo in Monty’s room. 

“Do what?” Monty asks, his voice still scratchy with sleep.

Miller glances over his shoulder at Monty before looking away again. “Listen,” he says. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine.” Monty sits up a little straighter and Miller shifts his balance, scanning the floor for his clothes. “I shouldn’t have let it get this far.” 

“What are you talking about, Nate?” Monty asks, and Miller’s heart stumbles again. How long have they been doing this now, that Monty can call him that without hesitation? He grips the edge of the bed. Monty moves and Miller feels him behind him, his gentle hand on Miller’s shoulder. “Talk to me.”

“You’re... experimenting,” Miller finally grits out, trying not to cringe away from Monty’s touch. “And that’s fine. But I can’t be that experiment anymore.” 

Monty shifts and then pulls Miller’s face into his hands. “Stopped being an experiment a while ago,” Monty says carefully. He tips Miller’s chin back and Miller swallows, trying to get the lump in his throat to go away. “You think if I was uncomfortable or confused that I’d just keep coming back for more?” Monty asks. 

“I don’t know,” Miller admits.

Monty laughs. “Clearly.” He tugs Miller toward him then, capturing his mouth with his own in a way so soft and innocent that Miller wants to melt. There’s no rush here, no incessant need that’s clawing at either of them. It’s just a kiss. 

Miller leans in to deepen it, just to see what will happen, and Monty smiles against his lips. His hands tug again, pulling Miller back down onto the mattress with him. 

“Monty,” Miller rasps, moving back slightly, but Monty keeps him close. There’s a knowing smile on Monty’s face but Miller knows he won’t say anything else until Miller does. “You sure?” he asks. Monty licks his lips before his mouth grows into a smile and he nods. “So you’re into guys, then,” Miller says as he bends in again. 

“I’ve always kind of been into _you_ ,” Monty supplies. 

They spend the morning tangled together under the sheets. 


	20. another party

Miller scanned the room, nursing his beer slowly as he took in those who were still at the party, fanned out across the living room in different clumps with different people. He shouldn’t have come tonight. He knew that the second he walked into Raven’s apartment that this was the last place he should’ve been. But a small part of him (or a large part, really) was hopeful for things that weren’t even going to happen. 

Harper and Monty had broken up a few weeks ago. And it’s not like he was acting like a predator, circling his prey and waiting for it to fall weak and come to him. Not that at all. He cared about Monty and wanted to be there to support him.

He was also kind of in love with him, but whatever. 

Bellamy dropped onto the couch beside Miller hard enough that the beer in Miller’s plastic cup sloshed. He looked up at Bellamy with a frown that turned tight at the look on Bellamy’s face.

“What?” Miller asked. 

“Saw something,” Bellamy said. Miller clenched his teeth, waiting for his friend to continue. “Monty and Harper left together,” he said. 

Something inside of Miller snapped. “Great,” he said. “Perfect. _Nice_.” He stood up quickly, sloshing the liquid in the cup another time. “Fuck this.”

“Miller,” Bellamy tried. 

But Miller ignored him, downing the rest of his beer before chucking the empty plastic cup in a nearby trashcan that was already overflowing. He waved off his friend and sucked in a sharp breath. He needed to leave. It’s not like he was expecting anything, really, but God he hoped. He could hope for something, right? That didn’t make him awful. 

Harper and Monty had broken up. But, like, if they wanted to get back together then what the fuck ever. Their life. Still hurt like a bitch, but whatever. 

He dug around his pocket for his phone to call Murphy to get him to pick him up and shouldered his way outside onto the front porch, welcoming the cool summer air with a sigh. As Miller lifted his phone to dial he bumped into someone sitting on the steps with their head in their hands and automatically exhaled an apology. 

“It’s fine,” Monty replied. Miller froze, watching the boy on the ground turn and offer him a gentle smile. “Leaving already?” he asked.

Miller scanned the area. “I thought you…” he trailed off, unsure what to say. “I’m tired,” Miller said. 

“Yeah,” Monty agreed. He rubbed at his face another time before motioning for Miller to join him on the steps. Slowly, Miller lowered himself to the space beside Monty before shooting Murphy a quick text. “Harper came up to me crying tonight,” Monty told him with a sigh. “Wanted to get back together, or something. God, I don’t even know, Nate. I just–I can’t be with her anymore.”

Miller’s heart was pounding in his ears. “Yeah?”

“Called Monroe and had her come pick her up,” Monty said. “She’s one of my best friends. And I don’t want us breaking up to ruin that. But I can’t be with her anymore. It’s just not the same for me.” Miller nodded slightly, watching as Monty propped his elbow up on his knee so he could look at Miller. “What do I do?” 

Miller cleared his throat. “I mean, have you told her all that?” he asked. And Monty nodded. “Then you’re doing what you should,” he said. 

Monty sighed again. “Yeah.” He offered Miller another gentle smile. “Thanks.”

They sat in comfortable silence until Murphy pulled up and honked loudly to get Miller’s attention. As he stood he looked back to Monty. “If you need anything,” he offered, and Monty smiled again.

“Thanks, Nate,” he repeated. “I mean that.” 

Climbing into Murphy’s car, Miller thought it would be okay to hope.


	21. tally marks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warnings for minor character death and mentions of suicide, but generally not a sad piece!

Miller pulls the tattoo gun away from Monty’s arm, rubbing his thumb over the new tally that he’s just placed there. All in all, there are about seventeen tallies on Monty’s arm. Miller’s been counting.

“All done,” Miller says, pulling back.

Monty offers him a bright smile, the same smile he first entered the tattoo parlor in a few months ago, and Miller melts. Like always. He’s always melting around Monty. “Thanks, Nate,” Monty says, looking down at his arm. “Looks great.”

Monty’s been coming to the parlor for months, and when it was clear he was getting tallies on his arm Miller made sure to work out something with Clarke, the owner of the parlor and Monty’s fast friend, that he was only charged for every five. It didn’t seem fair to charge this charming, lovely boy for one small tally on the inside of his bicep every time he came around. So one for every five was the deal, and Monty seemed to appreciate it. 

Miller reaches around for the bandage he normally gives to Monty and decides that today, _today,_ is going to be the day he finally asks. So he clears his throat and turns back to the boy still in the chair. “What are they for?” Miller asks. “The tallies.” 

Monty’s smiling again, soft and sweet. “Ah, so you are curious,” Monty notes. Miller nods. He always has been. But tattoos are personal and Miller doesn’t like to ask. “It’s kind of a reminder to myself,” Monty says.

The chair rolls under him as Miller makes his way to Monty’s side, taping up the mark he’s just made on Monty’s skin. “You don’t have to tell me,” Miller says.

“I tried to kill myself once,” Monty tells him. Miller freezes. His eyes dart up to Monty and their gazes lock. But Monty doesn’t look away, and he doesn’t look upset, so Miller starts bandaging him again. “My parents died a few years ago,” Monty says. “Car accident. Both at once. It…” he trails off, shaking his head a little while Miller carefully tends the tattoo. “It sucked.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Miller says gently.

“Yeah, thank you,” Monty murmurs. “But, uh. It was… hard, for a while, I guess. Still is. And my best friend–Jasper–he’s been in here a lot with me?” Miller nods at the recognition, the boy with the messy brown hair and the mischievous smile. “He um, found me. After I, yeah. But we made this bet, I guess.”

“A bet that involves tattoos?” Miller prompts, pulling away after finishing his work. 

Monty’s smile returns, not quite as bright but definitely still as genuine. “It was more like a promise. I don’t know. He said something along the lines of _there’s still so much you want to be alive for_.” Monty leans backwards in the seat as he looks as Miller. “I make a tally for every day he’s right.”

 _That’s a lot of tally-less days_ , Miller thinks. So he tries to think of a way to word his question as they sit in silence for a moment. “Are all the other days awful?” Miller asks.

“Oh,” a laugh bubbles out of Monty. “Absolutely not, no. But these,” he gestures to his arm. “These are _the days_. The days that define me.” He holds up his fingers to count off the tallies. “When I got accepted into my engineering program,” Monty begins. “Meeting my favorite band after their show. That night Jasper and Harper and I hammocked in the park during the meteor shower.” 

“ _The_  days,” Miller agrees.

Monty smiles again. “You get it,” he says, and Miller nods. He’s been through rough patches too. He lost his mom when he was younger, and his dad’s been distant for a long time – especially after he came out. But this wasn’t a competition. 

“What was this last one?” Miller wonders. 

Monty’s smile returns to full-brightness, so warm that Miller feels his chest heat up. “I designed this program,” Monty says. “It’s for the computer. And like, long story short, it got picked up for _a lot_  of money, and it’s anticipated to be really big, and just…” his grin is wide. “Yeah.”

“That’s really neat,” Miller says. Because it is. To overcome the loss of people you love. To move on. To recognize your growth. “All of it, congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Monty says, still grinning. 

–

Miller makes sure to ask every time Monty comes in. _What was it now? What happened now?_ And Monty always shares as Miller makes the mark, the small tally on Monty’s bicep. He doesn’t come in very often, but Miller’s sure it’s just because he’s saving his tallies for _the_ days. The important ones. The big ones.

One afternoon a few months after sharing the meaning behind his tattoo, Monty’s response to the question is simple. “Have you ever seen a sunrise so _perfect_  that you know it’s made you a better person?”

Miller’s response is just as simple. “No.”

“Well I guess we’ll have to fix that,” Monty tells him. 

–

More months pass and Monty’s visits are less frequent. _I graduated college. I was asked to speak for a TED Talk. I was the best man in Jasper and Maya’s wedding._ But Miller still loves them, the stories, the smiles, the boy. 

It isn’t until the afternoon that Monty enters without the intention to get a tally mark do things change. “Something happen?” Miller asks, concerned, but Monty shakes his head. 

“Nothing bad,” he says. “I just–will you go on a date with me?”

–

Two years pass and Monty’s bicep has a collection of tally marks, all the same size, all in the same place. But the 38th tally mark is Miller’s favorite. Monty got it because of _the_  day, the day that Miller lowered himself onto one knee and took Monty’s hand in his own and slid a ring onto his finger. 

And then the 39th, when Monty slid a ring onto Miller’s finger as well, kissing him in a church full of all of their friends.

At night Miller presses gentle kisses to the tattoos before nuzzling into Monty’s side. “They might be my favorite tallies, too,” Monty tells him before they fall asleep together, ready for more days to add to the list. 


	22. progressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not that I think Harper would ever do this, but it was a request so here we go!!

1. 

Monty sits on the couch across from Miller with a beer in his hands, his eyebrows furrowed. He feels like shit. He doesn’t know Miller very well, just that he’s been Harper’s neighbor for over a year now and has some really nice scruff going on, and that he’s gone out on a limb for Monty. Despite that fact that Miller doesn’t know Monty very well, either. 

“Um,” Monty starts, and stops. He doesn’t know what to say. This is the worst possible scenario for making friends. “Thanks,” he said.

“Don’t say thanks,” Miller says. “That’s not what you want to say.”

And it’s not. Monty doesn’t want to say thanks. Because again, he feel shitty. And this is the worst possible scenario for making friends. 

Monty had been in the hallway, locked out of Harper’s apartment for the third time this month (she wouldn’t give him a key, he wouldn’t figure out why), when Miller arrived. He had groceries in his hands, a case of beer, and he looked surprised to see Monty.

“What’re you doing here?” Miller had asked. Monty had responded, of course, that he was here for Harper. “But I thought…” Miller trailed off, looking confused and then looking angry. 

Harper had been cheating on Monty. Miller’s walls were thin enough that he could hear it. Monty didn’t believe him, or maybe he just didn’t want to, but then there was moaning, and squeaking beds, and Monty needed to drink. 

“How long?” Monty asks, knowing he shouldn’t say _thanks_  again. “Has this been…?”

He’s only been dating Harper for a few months, but they’ve been friends for so much longer. He never thought she’d do _this_. 

“I don’t know.” Monty sighs, reaching up with his free hand and scrubbing at his face. Things with Harper weren’t magical or perfect or destined in the stars, but he didn’t think they were bad _either_. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this,” Miller says. “You’ve always been–” he stops, shaking his head. “You seem like a good guy,” Miller says a bit awkwardly.

Monty knows it isn’t the time for laughing, but one escapes him anyway. “Thanks.”

“Don’t say thanks,” Miller says another time. 

2. 

Returning to Harper’s to pick up his belongings makes Monty ache. She’s found someone else, and despite the way she’s betrayed him Monty can’t help but be happy for her. He’s lost a lot of people in his life. His parents, some friends. Losing Harper, despite this pain, isn’t something he can do. 

But he can’t be with her either. And he can’t see her. Or talk to her. Not now. 

So he packs his things, says goodbye, and stops. In front of Miller’s door.

He knocks twice and waits awkwardly, shifting his box of belongings in his arms, and soon Miller opens the door. He’s shirtless and glistening. “Monty?” he asks.

“Oh, I, uh–” Monty fumbles for words. “Can I come in?”

Miller blinks hard and shifts out of the way, allowing Monty space to enter. “Everything okay?” he asks.

“Had to get my stuff,” Monty says. He doesn’t know why he didn’t just leave. He should’ve just left. He shouldn’t have knocked on Miller’s door. Miller’s still shirtless. “Sorry, I–”

“Want a beer?” Miller asks. He wipes his forearm with his arm, and Monty sees an arm-workout machine thingy hanging from a nearby door frame. “Doing okay?” he asks. Monty doesn’t respond but he does lower himself onto the couch. Miller returns with an open beer. “Want to burn some of the shit?”

Again, despite not feeling like he should laugh, Monty does. “What?”

“I don’t know,” Miller says. “When me and my ex broke up I burned half of his shit. Made me feel better.”

Monty notices that Miller said _his_. Monty doesn’t comment on it. 

“I think I’m okay,” Monty says. He takes a swig of his beer. “Harper left me for her coworker.” 

“And you think you’re okay?” Miller asks.

“She’s always been more into girls than into me,” Monty says, “so, yeah. I guess. I’m happy she’s happy.”

Miller snorts. “That’s fucked up, man. She cheated on you.”

“Yeah.”

Miller’s face drops a little. He’s still shirtless. “Yeah,” he echoes. 

3. 

Monty thought breakups were supposed to end communication and interaction, but when Harper called him drunk and crying Monty couldn’t help but drive her home. 

He knocks on Miller’s door again. 

Miller has a friend over, someone named Bellamy, and for a moment Monty thinks maybe he’s interrupting a date. But Bellamy’s wearing a wedding ring and is all smiles when Monty knocks on the door.

“So you’re Monty,” he says, and Monty pauses. 

“Uh, yeah.”

“Miller’s told me about you.”

“Fuck off, Bellamy,” Miller says. And to Monty, “I’ll grab you a beer.”

They spend the night playing a game called Catan, and Monty catches more than one look that Bellamy shares with Miller. There’s something there, Monty can sense it, but he isn’t sure what. Not between them. Like, obviously they’re friends. But like Bellamy knows something. 

When Miller’s getting everyone another beer, Monty turns to him. “Does Miller talk about me?” Monty asks. 

“Sometimes,” Bellamy admits, looking amused. “Didn’t your girlfriend cheat on you?” he asks. 

“Yeah.”

“Why do you keep coming around, then?” Bellamy wonders. 

Monty doesn’t know how to answer.

4. 

At their last interaction, Miller and Monty exchanged numbers. 

They’ve been texting. A lot.

Monty feels kind of guilty about it. Because, like, Miller is insanely good looking. And his girlfriend just cheated on him so he shouldn’t be interested in texting other humans. And there should be more of a grieving process. 

But texting Miller is fun.

 _You can call me Nate_ , one of the messages had said. 

Monty likes how Nate sounds in his mouth. 

5. 

Going to Harper’s apartment building but not going to see Harper is weird. Monty knows he should start thinking of it as Nate’s apartment building. Not that there’s anything there, per say. Not yet. But he’s going to see Nate, so it’s Nate’s apartment building.

Except when he gets to the hallway that Nate lives in and Harper’s on her way out.

“Were you coming to see me?” she asks, surprised to see him.

“Oh, uh. No.” Monty gestures awkwardly to Nate’s door. Monty told Harper how he found out about her cheating on him and she didn’t seem surprised, but it’s still weird. All of this is weird. “Sorry.”

“For what?” she asks. Harper had said sorry a million times. Harper was the one who was sorry. Not Monty. He shouldn’t be sorry for running into her. “Having a crush on Nathan Miller? Join the club,” she says with a laugh. 

That makes Monty feel a little better. “We’re friends,” is what Monty says.

“He’s into you,” Harper returns. 

Monty tries not to think about that. 

6. 

“I had a crush on you.”

It’s been a few months now, and Monty is nestled on the couch beside Nate. They’re not a _thing_ , not really, but it’s something. They’re something. And this, next to him, is nice. 

Nate’s words are warm in Monty’s ear. “What?” Monty asks. 

"It’s horrible,” Nate says, his voice suddenly thick. “It’s been weighing me down since we’ve–since _you…”_ Nate trails off. “I feel like I manipulated this into happening,” he says. “Like I was being selfish by telling you what I knew.”

“Nate, stop.”

“And God, ever since then, getting to know you more…” this admission is sudden. There’s been nothing to trigger it. They’ve just been watching TV, side by side, too close to be just friendly. But it’s sudden. “Monty, I… fuck.”

He slinks away slightly but they’re still close. Still warm. “Why do you feel guilty?” Monty asks. “I don’t–that doesn’t make sense.” 

“I don’t know.”

“Nate,” Monty turns toward him but Nate isn’t looking at Monty, he’s looking at the ground. “ _Nate_ ,” he says a touch softer. “Look at me.” Nate blinks, looking up. “Me too,” he admits. 

And, okay, maybe he understands that guilt. Because he feels guilty admitting it too. That so suddenly after someone else, that after Harper, he could just feel something warm. But he did, and he does, and he wants that.

Nate looks up through his long eyelashes. “You too, what?” he asks. There’s hesitation in his voice. “You…”

Monty answers him by leaning in. It’s a risky move, really, but the suddenness of Nate’s admission and the gentleness of his touch and the combination of all of these feelings, Monty wants this. He wants Nate. He wants this man who’s been honest with him from the beginning. 

“It shouldn’t have been any of my business,” Nate murmurs against Monty’s lips. “What was going on with you two. But…”

“I’m glad it was,” Monty murmurs back, drawing him in for another kiss. 

It’s a cheesy line, and even cheesier when Nate laughs, and cheesier still when he says, “Thanks.”

“Don’t say thanks,” Monty teases. “That’s not what you want to say.”

“You’re right,” Nate exhales, pulling Monty toward him another time. “I don’t want to say anything at all.”


	23. bar love

“Aw, c’mon, Nate,” Monty said with a laugh, holding Miller’s hands tightly. But Miller wasn’t moving from the stool he was sitting on at the bar despite his boyfriend’s protests. “Dance with me.” 

Miller tugged hard on Monty’s hands, pulling them up to his mouth so he could kiss his knuckles. “You know I’m no fun when I’m not drunk,” he reminded Monty gently. There was no way in hell Monty was going to get Miller out on that dance floor tonight. Miller was the designated driver of the night so alcohol was a no-go, and dancing was not his thing. 

Monty grinned, stepping close and stealing a quick kiss. “You’re always fun to me,” he murmured against Miller’s mouth. He tasted like rum and coke and Miller kissed him back before Monty dropped his hands, allowing him to sit at the bar like a loner. “Maybe I can get Jasper to.”

Miller agreed to that plan with a laugh and motioned for another cup of water from the bartender before returning to watch Monty out dancing. He was definitely drunk. His sleeves were rolled up and his cheeks were flushed and his hair was disheveled, but he was smiling so widely his dimples were standing out. He was a mess. A drunk, cute, mess. 

Monty danced with Jasper out on the floor for a while, pumping his arms in the air and cheering off-beat to the song that was playing, before he disappeared from Miller’s view in one swift motion. Miller was on his feet at once scanning the bar. There were a couple options as to what had happened but what was most likely was that Monty was getting sick in the bathroom. 

Starting off in the direction Miller thought his boyfriend had vanished, he paused spotting Monty in the corner. He was confused for a moment, watching Monty wrapping his arms tightly around some girl Miller’d never seen before, until Miller picked up their conversation over the pounding music.

“…missed you so much, sweetheart,” Monty was saying to the girl. “Sorry I took so long! I got distracted.” Monty looked up at the man across from the girl and gave an innocent smile. “I’m Fox’s boyfriend,” Monty said, extending his hand. “You must be the gay friend from high school she was telling me about the other day?” 

The man, clearly larger and stronger than Monty, turned a shade of red and started stammering. “No, I–didn’t know– _gay_ –nah, man.”

“You have a problem with guys who like guys?” Monty asked, cocking an eyebrow and dropping his hand.  The guy held up his hands in defeat and turned away, leaving the girl Fox and Monty alone. Which Miller realized had been the goal the whole time. Monty caught Miller’s eyes and grinned, waving him over before turning back to Fox. “This is my boyfriend,” Monty told the girl, finally stepping away from her. “He’s a loser who sits at the bar by himself, so if you need some backup we’re just over there. Okay?”

“Thank you so much,” Fox gushed. “That guy was such a _creep_.” She hugged Monty in thanks before leaving, off to find her friends again.

Miller reached out, tugging Monty toward him. “That was really great of you,” Miller said lowly.

Monty grinned recklessly. “She looked panicked, it was only fair. But–” his hand lifted to Miller’s chest, keeping him at a distance. “Probably shouldn’t kiss in case the guy’s sticking around.”

Miller licked his lips, shaking his head slightly in amusement. Monty was an idiot, but brave and so full of love for people–even people he didn’t _know_. 

“I love you,” he said softly. 

Monty’s hand on Miller’s shirt stopped pushing and instead curled around the fabric, tugging tightly. “Yeah?” Miller dipped his head into a nod and Monty clearly changed his mind, yanking Miller in his direction and stealing a quick kiss. “That mean you’ll dance with me?” Monty wondered against Miller’s lips.

Miller laughed. He felt warm, and not because the bar was filled with sweaty bodies. But because this boy in his arms, this brave and kind boy, was his to love. “No,” he answered.

“Hm.” Monty pretended to pout before kissing Miller again. “You’re lucky I love you too.” 

Miller couldn’t wipe the grin off of his face. 

 


	24. kissing post-break up

Thank God they were the only two people in the room.

If Jasper had been there to witness it or even _Clarke_ , Monty would’ve set himself on fire and lived the rest of his life as a pile of ash. And it would’ve been fine. Because Monty was already ten degrees too hot and his insides were starting to burn as it was. 

“Nate,” he croaked out, peeling back at once. But Miller was holding his shirt. 

It would appear that in the ten seconds between Monty pressing himself on his toes to kiss Miller goodbye, a thing they haven’t done since they broke up two weeks ago, and realizing that _they were broken up_ , Miller latched onto Monty’s shirt. 

His eyes were closed, his knuckles white. “Monty,” he exhaled. “ _What_ …”

“I’m sorry,” Monty gushed immediately. “I don’t–I wasn’t thinking.” He might as well have gotten his brain removed. Because people who have brains don’t just _kiss their ex-boyfriends_. “Old habits die hard, I guess,” he hurried on. “And today was so–”

“I know,” Miller cut him off. “Today was so.”

So like it used to be. So easy. So normal. Monty got caught up in the laughter and the easy glances between the two of them and that familiar blossom of warmth in his chest whenever Miller smiled. It was the first time they’d really _seen_ each other since they broke up, the two of them agreeing that things just worked better between them as friends.

“I’m sorry,” Monty said another time, once more trying to ease backwards. But Miller still had that death grip on his shirt, his eyebrows still drawn together like he was in pain. “I’ll–”

“ _Monty.”_ Miller’s eyes eased open and good God Monty shouldn’t be allowed to stand this close to Miller ever again with his stupid awful eyelashes and annoyingly kissable lips. “I miss that,” Miller said lowly. “You.” 

As he spoke, Miller released his hold on Monty’s shirt. But now Monty couldn’t move away if he wanted to. His eyes flickered to the hallway that led to the rest of their friends before he was looking at Miller again, still so close, still so kissable. 

The words came up on their own accord. “Me too,” Monty whispered. Because he did. _God_ , he did. He missed Miller so freaking much. And not just the kissing, because heck the kissing was good, but the other stuff too. “I really have to go though,” he said. Miller’s face fell just enough that Monty picked up on it and he nodded before stepping away. Monty stepped forward then, it was his turn to hold onto a shirt, and tugged just a bit. “I’ll call you,” Monty said.

“Monty…”

“I swear it.” Miller nodded again, his eyes flickering to Monty’s lips before finding Monty’s gaze again. “If that’s what you want.” 

Miller was quiet another moment before repeating, softer, “I miss you.” 

Monty couldn’t help the tiny smile that found his face. 


	25. holy freaking eyelashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> au where the first words your soulmate thinks when they see you shows up on your arm

_Holy freaking eyelashes._ Miller blinked down at his arm, confused. Because that hadn’t been there before. Definitely not. Five minutes ago there was definitely not scrawl across his left forearm despite the fact that it was there now. 

He blinked hard but the words remained. So he reached up with his right hand and rubbed at them, slightly hoping they would go away. They didn’t. 

Panic settled like a stone in his stomach because that could only mean one thing. His soulmate was in this fucking coffee shop. Miller clenched his teeth to keep himself from overreacting. His soulmate was in this coffee shop and the first thing whoever the human was that saw him thought was _holy freaking eyelashes_. 

Which, like. That was another point entirely. But _soulmate_. That was the deal. You get a fucking tattoo of the first thought your soulmate thinks when they see you in person. It doesn’t ever go away. Which is really shitty. Because, like, what if Miller had already looked at whoever it is and thought something really dirty?

Like, _fuck me already_. 

Or, _I want to bend that guy over a fucking table_. 

Miller took a deep breath and prepared to look up. Because no matter how scary it was and how fast his heart was beating he was a goddamn romantic. And he wanted to know.

God, he wanted to know. 

“Hi.” 

Miller looked up and froze. He froze. He couldn’t even form an intelligible thought if he wanted to. It took a moment but finally he processed that this boy in front of him was really talking to him. Miller hadn’t seen him before so the chances of something dirty on this boy’s arm were slim to none, but he couldn’t help the fear that was flooding him now.

“Hi,” Miller rasped. 

The boy’s face broke into a smile and Miller felt it in his soul. “I’m Monty,” he said.

“Nate,” Miller returned. 

Monty reached out with his arm to say something and then he, too, froze. Because there was scrawl on his arm now too, Miller knew it, and the boy paused. He twisted his arm to get a better look at it and then a laugh bubbled out of him. “Well shit,” Monty said. “I was just coming over to ask what you were reading.” 

There was a book on the table that Miller had completely forgotten about when he saw the tattoo on his arm. He twisted his forearm to show it to Monty and Monty’s smile stretched into a grin. 

“Shit,” Monty said again. But he was absolutely beaming. He plunked down into the seat across from Miller. “I think this means we’re soulmates, Nate.”

“I think so,” Miller agreed. He licked his lips and tipped his chin back slightly, trying to get a better view of Monty’s arm. “What did I…?” 

Monty couldn’t stop smiling. He stretched out his arm for Miller to read. 

_Oh. It’s you._


	26. sharing blankets

Miller leaned against the wall with a sigh, scanning the room of his best friends with an exhausted smile on his face. He loved them dearly. Truly, he loved them. But they were _obnoxious_. 

It was Bellamy’s birthday and after an absurd amount of alcohol and a night on the town, all of them returned to his and Bellamy’s apartment to sleep for the next year. Raven had claimed Miller’s bed upon returning, Clarke climbed into bed with Bellamy, and the couch had been claimed by Murphy and Jasper on opposite ends. 

There wasn’t space _anywhere_. Harper and Zoe were stretched out on the floor, Wells was slumped over in the armchair, Roma and Atom had managed to find spaces on the floor. Every space was taken. After making sure everyone had a space Miller stepped back and realized that he’d boxed himself out of all the open areas. 

“Nate.” Miller dropped his eyes to the wall where Monty was squeezed in comfortably tight. He was still drunk, clear from the hazy smile he was giving, and Miller couldn’t stop a smile of his own. “C’mere.”

“Need some water?” Miller asked.

“You need a place to sleep. I’ll share the blankets with you.” A rush of warmth burst in Miller’s chest and he laughed quietly, tip-toeing his way through their passed out friends to get to where Monty was stationed. He wiggled to the side a bit, making more room for Miller to settle down beside him. “It’ll be close,” Monty told him in a mock-whisper.

“I don’t mind if you don’t.”

There was a teasing smile on Monty’s face. “I certainly don’t mind,” Monty said. 

Miller laid down, his head sharing Monty’s pillow, their bodies both beneath the duvet Monty had taken from the linen closet, and looked at Monty with a smile. 

“Comfy?” Miller asked. 

Monty wrinkled his nose before nuzzling a little closer to Miller. He nosed his way to Miller’s collarbone and slipped his ankle by Miller’s as well. “Now I am,” Monty exhaled.

There was moonshine on Monty’s breath, but Miller didn’t mind. He tugged Monty close, sighing with Monty draped his arm around Miller’s waist. 

They could talk about it in the morning. 


	27. halloween kisses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: strangers who hooked up at a party while in costume but tbh i might be in love with you so i’m gonna walk this earth looking for the right woodland nymph as minty would be too much omg

Monty took the halo off of his head before fixing his hair and placing it back. He still couldn’t believe that Jasper had convinced him to come as an angel to this stupid Halloween party. 

“People will think we’re dating,” Monty had argued. 

“People already think we’re dating,” Jasper said. “And Maya’s in Australia and I want to do a matching costume!”

So they matched, and they took their stupid matching photos, and they went to the Halloween party only to have Jasper disappear the second they’d arrived. So Monty was an angel by himself while Jasper was drinking himself silly in the kitchen. 

And then there was a woodland nymph there, wearing a crown of flowers and looking at Monty through his long beautiful eyelashes. “All alone?” the nymph asked. And God, he was shirtless too. Nice toned chest and strong arms and Monty was staring. 

“My friend’s around here somewhere,” Monty said. 

“Need some company?” 

“Um.” Monty’s face was warm. “Yeah.”

Ten minutes passed of casual small talk passed ( _Oh you’re an English major? How do you feel about Snape? Fucking hate the bastard._ ) before Monty gave up, tugging the nymph (crap, what was his name?) toward him. And then they were kissing, and God it was good. 

Woodland Nymph had all the right motions, with the twirling hips and heavy hands. But it wasn’t a very long kiss because–

“Jesus,” someone was pulling the guy away, a boy with greasy hair and an annoying smirk. Who actually looked a little like Snape, now that Monty was looking at him. “I leave you alone for ten minutes and you’re already making out?”

Woodland Nymph flashed a grin at Monty. “He asked about Harry Potter,” the guy said.

Snape laughed. And Woodland Nymph winked. And then they were gone. 

* * *

“Who the hell dresses as a woodland nymph for Halloween?” Jasper asked after downing his shot. 

Monty flicked his friend’s devil horns. “Who the hell dresses up as _Satan_?” Jasper winced, mostly from the shot, before grinning at Monty. “His mouth. Jeez, Jasper, he had a mouth.”

“And two eyes, and a nose?”

“ _Jasper_ ,” Monty nearly whined. Jasper poured him a shot as well and Monty downed it just as quickly. “I have to go find a freaking nymph,” Monty said after standing up again. “Don’t I?”

Jasper was still grinning. “Another shot. For luck?”

* * *

Monty was annoyed at how many freaking woodland nymph’s were at this party. To be fair, most of them were girls, so he could pass them without squinting into the dark for too long, but still. The party was a typical house party, with people grinding and jumping to music and spilling their drinks and heck, Monty just wanted to find the guy. 

Monty ran into a guy with a crown of thorns (“I’m _Jesus_ ,” the guy said, to which Monty responded, “Questionable Halloween choice, dude.”) and another guy with a flower crown (“I’m a hippie,” the guy told him, to which Monty responded, “Got any weed?”) 

And that’s how Monty ended up outside smoking a blunt with a Hippie and Jesus, just wondering where the hell the freaking woodland nymph was. They passed the blunt back and forth, neither of them even half as attractive as the guy from earlier, and laughed about the costumes at the party. Monty always did make friends pretty easily. 

Monty was into his fourth or fifth hit when the back door pushed open and pretty girl, also dressed as a hippie, marched out, looking annoyed. “Jesus, Roan.” Jesus motioned to himself, then to the hippie. The girl gestured to the hippie. “I’ve been looking for you for like twenty minutes.”

“Angel wanted some pot,” Roan/Hippie said with a smile. “College parties are much more fun than you said, Raven.” The girl–Raven–looked toward Monty. 

She pointed at him and tipped her head to the side before saying, “Angel.” Monty nodded, passing the blunt back to Roan. “Miller’s been looking for an angel,” she said. 

Miller! That was the guy’s name. That was what he murmured into the space between his and Monty’s mouths. Monty had been a little too distracted to remember it at the moment. 

“Woodland nymph,” Monty rasped. 

Raven grinned. “Come with me,” she said. She pointed at Roan. “You too.” Then at Jesus. “Not you. That’s an offensive costume.” 

Monty laughed, giddiness (and weed) overwhelming him as he followed this girl he didn’t know back into the party. Raven nearly pushed Monty toward Miller who was leaning back against the wall with a lazy, drunken smile on his face as one of his friends told him an animated story with his hands. 

“Angel,” Miller blurt when Monty came into view, cutting off whatever conversation he was already having before striding in Monty’s direction. And Monty was still grinning, completely lightheaded. “Where the hell’ve you been?” he asked.

“Looking for you,” Monty answered.

Miller’s face lit up. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” Miller’s hand curved around Monty’s cheek and Miller’s friend, who he’d been having a conversation with, laughed a little in the background. “Monty,” Monty reminded him.

“Monty,” Miller whispered. And there was a smile there, like it was privileged information to have Monty’s name. “Angel.” Monty couldn’t stop smiling. “We were having a conversation earlier,” Miller said. 

“We were doing more than that,” Monty told him.

Miller laughed. “Yeah.” He was still shirtless, and Monty was still distracted. “We could do that again if you wanted.”

Monty nodded. “Yeah.” 

* * *

Jasper was the one to pull them apart this time, his devil horns askew and a smirk on his face. “Found your nymph, then?” Jasper asked. 

Miller licked his lips, sliding his hands around Monty’s hips and tugging him backwards. Miller propped his chin on Monty’s shoulder, and Jasper’s smirk stretched into a grin. 

“Unlikely pair,” Miller’s friend said with a smile of his own. 

“When you find someone else who hates Snape as much as you do,” Miller murmured, his breath warm against Monty’s neck, “like hell you let them go.”

“Just make sure you exchange numbers before the night’s over,” Jasper said, motioning at them with his hand before moving toward Miller’s friends as though he was part of their group. “I don’t need to hear any more woodland nymph whining.” 

“I’d like to hear _all_  the whining,” Miller hummed. Monty felt his chest get hot. 

It was going to be a good night.


	28. when I get you alone

“Absolutely not!” Jasper’s hands are heavy on Monty’s shoulders, holding him against the lockers with a deep frown on his face. “Are you crazy? You aren’t going to Miller’s house alone.”

Monty blinks at his friend in confusion. “He’s my partner for chem,” Monty tells him. “I _have_ to go to Miller’s house.”

“Alone is the key word here,” Harper says from behind Jasper. “We know you’ve got heart-eyes for the guy, but don’t be an idiot.” Still, Monty’s blinking at his friends. “Come _on_. You’re one of the only out people at our school,” Harper says. “It makes you a prime target.”

“A prime target,” Monty repeats dumbly. He’s not entirely sure what they’re talking about anymore. They’re in between classes and Monty mentioned to his friends, offhandedly, that he’d be going to Miller’s that night to work on their project together. And now he’s being unnecessarily scolded. 

“Miller’s captain of the football team,” Jasper says. “He hangs out with people like John Murphy. Did you see what he did to Myles and Connor for even _thinking_ about attending pride in town?”

Monty scoffs, brushing his friend’s hands off of his shoulders. “That isn’t confirmed,” Monty says. Murphy beat the crap out of Connor and Myles, but the reasons are still up in the air. “And besides, Miller’s not like Murphy.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re in love with him,” Harper says. She pushes Jasper to the side, this time looking straight at her friend. “Miller’s got nice arms. And nice eyelashes. But he’s just like the rest of the asshole jocks that go to this school, okay?”

“We forbid you,” Jasper says.

“You forbid me,” Monty echoes. “To work on my chem project?” He shakes his head. “Not happening. I have to get it done.”

“Do it at the library, for crying out loud!” 

“Or at least wait until Miller’s parents aren’t out of town,” Harper suggests. “Just to be safe.”

–

“ _Again_?” Monty asks. It’s been a week now and Miller’s parents are _still_ out of town, or off somewhere else. Miller’s dad is the head of police here, and in a small place like Arkadia that means lots of conferences and networking trips elsewhere. Miller’s mom goes with him most of the time. “Do you just, like, live alone?”

Miller shrugs. “Bellamy hangs out a lot,” he says. “Plus I’ve got practice. They leave cash. Doesn’t bother me.”

Monty scrubs at his face. He’s not going to be able to weasel his way out of this one. He’s been putting off this project for too long as it is and Miller’s already getting suspicious. “Fine,” Monty says. “Tonight?”

“I didn’t realize my parents not being home would be an issue,” Miller murmurs. He looks kind of confused, kind of upset. “We could go to your house. Or if you want to wait until they’re back, then–”

“I mean we’ve got to get this thing done eventually,” Monty says. “Just…” 

Miller adjusts the straps on his backpack. “Just…” he echoes, hoping Monty continues.

“No funny business. Okay?”

If Miller looked confused before, this is completely beyond that. “Yeah,” Miller nods. “No funny business.”

–

Miller’s packing his things from football practice when Bellamy approaches him. “You were first off the field today,” Bellamy says. And there’s that smile there, that knowing one that only Bellamy’s allowed to use because Bellamy _knows_. “Any particular reason?”

“Fuck off, Blake,” Miller tosses back, but there’s no fire there. “My house is a fucking mess, and–”

“Monty’s coming over?” Bellamy fills in. Miller lets out a short breath and glances over his shoulder at the other guys in the locker room, but no one’s paying attention. Miller’s struggling to fight off his smile. “Want some help cleaning?” Bellamy offers. 

Miller nods, thankful that the universe has blessed him with a friend like Bellamy Blake. “Thanks, man.” And then, “We’re just doing chem.”

Bellamy smirks. “Sure.”

–

Monty sits in his car with his phone held to his ear. “Yeah, Jasper,” he murmurs, fidgeting uncomfortably. “I’m here.” 

“ _Make sure you turn your location on in case he drags you to the woods and I have to find your beaten, bloody body.”_

“He’s not going to beat me up,” Monty grumbles. “I’ve got to go.”

He turns on his location anyway. And now he’s uncharacteristically nervous.

Jasper and Harper were right in the idea that Monty is very, very, very attracted to Nathan Miller. It’s not Monty’s fault that Miller is constantly licking his lips. Or that Miller’s a generally scruffy human. Or when Miller smiles, _God_ when he _smiles_! It’s like time freaking stops. 

But they’re also right in the idea that Monty can’t be afraid of him just because he’s good looking. Good looking people are generally known for being assholes. And–fine, Miller’s kind of an asshole sometimes. And he _is_  friends with John Murphy. 

And now he’s nervous.

Monty knocks on Miller’s front door and waits a minute, but after no response he presses the doorbell. Soon the door swings open and Miller’s standing there wearing an old pair of sweatpants and a shirt that has giant holes where the arms go through meaning Monty can see Miller’s chest. 

“Hey,” Miller says. 

Monty forces himself to meet Miller’s gaze. “Hey.” 

Miller shuffles out of the way. “Come on in.” Monty grips the straps of his backpack tightly as he crosses the threshold into Miller’s home. It’s giant, as expected considering his parents are rich, and that for some reason makes Monty more nervous. “You okay?” Miller asks, looking at Monty with his eyebrows furrowed. 

“I’m gay,” he blurts out.

Miller pauses. “Okay?”

“But like–I’m a person. You can’t beat the crap out of me just because I’m gay.” 

Miller’s face falls a little. “ _What_?” Monty feels his hands slacken against the straps, suddenly feeling jut a little too hot. “I–Monty, Jesus Christ. What makes you think I want to beat the crap out of you?” Monty doesn’t know how to answer. So he just stands, a few feet from the door, looking at Miller like a freaking idiot. And then Miller shifts, very seriously. “Did I ever…” Miller trails off, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. “Did I ever do anything to make you think I was uncomfortable with who you are?” He shakes his head slightly, confused. “If I did–”

“No,” Monty stops him. _No_. Miller hadn’t. In fact, Miller was always kind, always supportive. “That was all wrong,” Monty carries on. “I–sorry–that was so rude of me.”

“No,” Miller counters, “if I did something then–”

“You didn’t,” Monty cuts him off. “God, I–freaking Jasper and Harper, they…” he takes a deep breath. “I don’t know, they kind of convinced me otherwise.”

Monty watches as Miller licks his lips. Slowly. Deliberately. “Okay,” Miller says. Why does he always have to do that? 

“I’m sorry,” Monty says again.

“No, let’s–” Miller gestures over his shoulder. “Let’s get started. I’ll grab some snacks.”

–

Working with Nathan Miller is truly a blessing. Monty isn’t sure why he ever allowed himself to be convinced that Miller wasn’t a good guy. Hell, he’s not a stereotypical jock at all.

He’s deeply invested in this project, so much to the point in which Monty thinks he’s micromanaging the PowerPoint slides. And he’s sarcastic, but not the kind that makes Monty want to tear his hair out. More like the kind that makes Monty smile and shakes his head in disbelief.

“Listen,” Monty says after an hour of hard work. “I’m sorry.”

Miller looks up from the textbook he’s pouring over. They’re across the room from one another, Miller on the floor while Monty’s curled into one of those big cushiony chairs. 

“What?”

“For thinking that you–”

“Stop.” Miller’s voice is firm, but not angry. “I get it.” Monty waits for the elaboration. “I’m on the football team,” Miller says. “John Murphy’s one of my best friends. I got a petty theft charge waived because my dad’s a cop. _I get it_.” 

Monty sighs. Because it’s not enough. Just because Miller fits into all the right pieces of that stereotypical human doesn’t mean he is one. It doesn’t mean Monty should’ve assumed, that he should’ve let Harper and Jasper convince him of it.

“I’m still allowed to be sorry,” Monty points out. 

“Yeah. But you don’t have to be.”

“It’s just–I’m sure there’s so much about you I don’t know.” 

A laugh bubbles out of Miller. And that right there is a perfect explanation. He’d never expected to hear a laugh like _that_ come out of Nathan Miller. So pure and bright, so silly.

“I can guarantee it,” Miller murmurs. 

–

Harper and Jasper give Monty basically a full-body analysis at school the next day. “No bruises,” Jasper concludes.

“No broken bones,” Harper agrees.

“What did you guys do if he didn’t beat the pulp out of you?” Jasper asks.

Monty shuts his locker a little too hard. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, “maybe work on our project like two normal human beings?” He looks at his friends with a frown on his face. “Miller’s a great guy, okay?”

Jasper looks hesitant. “False sense of security?” he offers.

“ _No_ ,” Monty says. “Miller, he–he’s not like the other football players at this school.” 

–

“How’d your date go?” Bellamy asks as they get ready for practice the next day.

Miller rolls his eyes so hard that his head hurts. “It wasn’t a date,” he mutters.

Bellamy swings his leg over the bench to straddle it so he can look at his friend. “Why not?”

Miller frowns. “He thinks I want to beat the shit out of him.” The laugh that escapes Bellamy is so much that Miller grabs his duffle bag from the ground and throw it at him. “It’s not funny!”

“You’ve been trying to find a way to make out with the kid for months,” Bellamy says, still grinning. “It’s fucking hilarious.” Miller sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face. “Maybe you’re not obvious enough.” 

But Miller was _pretty fucking obvious_  if you ask him. 

“It’s not like I’m going to pin him to the fucking wall out of nowhere,” he practically hisses through his teeth.

“And why not?” Bellamy teases.

“I fucking hate you, Blake.”

Bellamy laughs again before pushing himself off the bench. “C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get to practice.”

–

It’s not _really_  Miller’s fault that he outs himself at football practice. For starters, he can’t stop thinking about Monty. Which is _not Miller’s fault_. Because Monty’s so fucking _cute_  and Miller is so fucking gay. And he can’t stop thinking about actually pinning Monty to the wall, which is infinitely appealing. 

So when Coach Kane comes over to Miller and drops his heavy hand on his shoulder, Miller is horribly distracted. “Son,” Kane says. “You’re having trouble throwing straight.”

Miller responds without thinking. “I’m also having trouble _being_  straight,” he mutters. 

His response sinks in a second later when the entire field falls silent, Murphy looking at him with his head tipped to the side curiously, Dax scowling, Bellamy with his eyebrows high in amusement. 

Kane squeezes his shoulder a bit. “Just throw the damn ball, Miller.”

Fuck.

–

Everyone in the school knows by the next morning. 

Miller never expected to come out of the closet. Not that he was hiding, exactly, but he was in high school in a small town and figured he could wait until he was in college to let the world know. He figured it’d be as simple as a relationship status update. Not every single fucking person nosing their way into his business. 

Dax approaches him first.

He just stands behind him. And then Miller turns, trying not to startle at his teammate. And Dax just _looks_ at him. 

“You’re gay?” Dax asks.

And Miller arches an eyebrow. “Don’t worry,” he answers, “you’re not my type.” Something passes over Dax’s face that Miller doesn’t like very much so Miller stands a little taller. “Do you have a problem with that?” he asks, finding that bite in his voice. 

Dax wrinkles his nose. “Nope.”

And things carry on like normal.

–

Monty’s more nervous to be at Miller’s house today than he was at any point in previous. Because, like, dating Nathan Miller used to be a freaking fantasy. And now it’s… possible? Because apparently Miller’s gay? Monty’s freaking out. He’s seriously freaking out. 

When Miller opens the door in a tight green shirt and Monty’s mouth goes a little dry, he knows this is bad. He’s already socially awkward at best and Harper and Jasper had been texting him _don’t get your hopes up we don’t want you to get hurt_ again and again and again. But Monty’s hopes were in the freaking heavens and Miller’s shirt was way too tight and this was going to be messy. 

“I really feel like an idiot,” Monty says after they end up in the basement again. Miller barely looks up from the textbook. “I mean–if they rumors are true and all, then–”

“Didn’t take you for one to listen to gossip,” Miller murmurs. 

Monty’s face feels hot. “I mean I’m not. I’m–”

Miller looks up slowly. “Just ask me.”

Monty’s face is _burning_. But he can’t look away. “Are you gay?” 

Miller’s mouth quirks into a smile. “Incredibly.” Then he looks back down at his text. “Do you think we could find this photo online? It would go great in the PowerPoint.” 

“Nate,” Monty blurts. And Miller looks up again, the smile gone. He’s looking at Monty like he’s shocked. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I said–I said some really stupid stuff, and–”

“I already said you don’t have to be sorry for that.”

“I feel like an idiot,” Monty murmurs, finally looking down. 

Miller’s on his feet in a second, striding toward Monty. “You feel like an idiot?” he asks. “I feel like an idiot. I was trying to make moves on you without you even knowing.” 

Monty’s jaw drops. “You–”

“Yeah.” Then Monty’s on his feet too, looking at Miller as his body hums with excitement. “I mean I asked you to come over when my parents weren’t home,” Miller offers as an explanation. And then, lamely,  “And wore that shirt.”

“With the giant arm holes,” Monty murmurs.

And then they’re moving toward one another, Miller’s hands outstretched as he frames Monty’s face between them. Miller surges backwards before they’ve barely even kissed ( _they’re kissing–Jasper’s never going to freaking believe him_ ) and pins him down on the couch. 

There’s growl in Miller’s mouth and a gasp in Monty’s and Miller’s hips are rocking and Monty’s hands are searching and oh my _God_  this is happening. 

Monty can’t help himself. There’s always a gasp there, or an _oh_ , or a _yes_ , or some sort of helpless, pleased noise that escapes him every time his mouth is too far from Miller’s. Monty’s content to spend the rest of the night like this, who cares that their project is due in a couple of days? He wants this, and this, and this.

But then Miller’s smiling and that makes it very difficult to kiss. And then Monty’s smiling too, so broadly that their teeth clash more than once.

“This was your plan all along,” Monty finally manages, and Miller’s smile widens. “Wasn’t it? This was your plan.”

“I wouldn’t say this was my plan _exactly_ ,” Miller gets out. He ghosts kisses across Monty’s jaw. “The original plan didn’t include you thinking I wanted to beat the shit out of you.” A strangled scoff crawls up Monty’s throat. “Or having to reconvince you how incredible I am.”

“That was never an issue,” Monty tells him. “The Into Dudes Thing,” Monty offers. “That was the issue.”

“Also never an issue,” Miller murmurs back. 

–

“I feel like everything I’ve ever known is a lie,” Jasper says, studying the hickey on Monty’s neck. Harper looks impressed. “If the jocks aren’t assholes, then who’re the assholes?”

“Us,” Harper says. “For not letting Monty hop on Nathan Miller weeks ago.”

“Oh, shut up,” Monty says. He’s been smiling since last night. He’s not sure he’s ever going to stop. “Also–Murphy beat up Myles and Connor for threatening to go to Pride and vandalize it. Nate told me last night.”

“ _Nate_ ,” Jasper says, still shaking his head in disbelief. “What universe is this?”

Miller appears out of nowhere, looking smug, looking happy, and Monty’s smile is seriously never going to leave his face. “Hey,” Miller says.

“Hi,” Monty returns.

Harper and Jasper watch silently.

“My parents are back today,” Miller says. “Want to come meet them?” Monty’s nodding before he even realizes it, and Miller’s _smiling._ God, it’s a radiant sight. Miller extends his hand toward Monty. “Walk with me?”

“Oh my God,” Jasper murmurs.

Monty laughs, grabbing Miller’s hand and twining their fingers together. 

“Let’s go,” Monty says with a smile.


	29. other guys

Monty kicks off his shoes by the door with a sigh. He shakes his jacket off and hangs it by the hook before entering his and Jasper’s apartment feeling defeated. He’s _tired_. He figured that becoming an adult would make things easier, but it turns out everything is just worse. 

After he and Harper broke up he kind of lost his mind a little bit. Not that he and Harper didn’t stay friends because they did (and they _are_ ). But Monty thought he’d end up alone, so that meant getting dating profiles and going on _a lot_  of dates. And most of them are horrible. Awful and horrible and sucky and Monty’s tired. 

“Jasper,” Monty calls out. “Can we order in?” He strides into the kitchen to find, well, not Jasper. Instead Nathan Miller’s standing there, a bottle of wine in his hands, looking uncharacteristically nervous. Nathan Miller doesn’t get nervous. “Oh,” Monty blurts. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Miller says. “Jasper was here. But then he–yeah.”

“Yeah,” Monty agrees. Even though he has _no idea_  what that means. “You have wine,” he says. “Are we going to drink it?”

Miller’s mouth quirks into a smile. “Ideally.”

“Corkscrew’s in the drawer by the fridge.” 

–

They’re two glasses in (the wine was unquestioned, as was the sudden appearance of Miller) when Monty finally decides to ask. “What are you doing here, by the way? Not that I mind.” 

Miller downs the rest of his glass before answering. “So.” He looks straight at Monty, as though this is important. And Monty thinks it must be. “Every guy you date is a total jerk,” he says. “I mean–they’re from Tinder. And Jasper says you always come home frustrated. And.” Miller pauses. “I need more wine.” 

He pours himself another glass. They’re quiet for a bit.

“I’m waiting for the elaboration,” Monty says. 

“I’m sick of watching you get your heart broken,” Miller supplies after downing the rest of his glass, again.

Monty shakes his head. “I’m not,” he tells Miller. Because he’s _not_. “I’m just–tired, I guess. I want there to be _someone_. And these guys, they’re not–they’re nothing.”

“Okay.” Miller says. He shakes his head. “More wine.”

Monty laughs. “Nate.”

Miller stops halfway to the bottle that they’ve placed on the coffee table. “I guess I thought it was obvious,” Miller mutters. “But I’m like–a fucking idiot. So.” Monty laughs again and Miller turns to look at him. “Jesus–Monty, I’m in love with you. And I just–yeah.” He shakes his head again. “Yeah.”

Monty’s smile slips. “Oh.”

Miller fumbles for the bottle. “Yeah. So. I just. Yeah.” 

Monty hurries to set his glass down. “Nate.” But Miller’s holding the bottle and it’s hard for Monty to take it into his own hands, to set it down. “Nate, look at me.” He grabs Miller’s hands in his own and tugs, forcing Miller to look at him. “You–really?” 

Miller licks his lips. And shrugs. And nods. And–oh. Wow. Okay. _Okay_. 

“I should leave,” Miller blurts.

“Don’t,” Monty counters. And they’re still holding hands. Miller’s struggling to hold Monty’s gaze. “ _Really?”_ Monty asks again. Because having someone–someone like _Miller,_ particularly–it feels impossible. But Miller nods, looking bashful. “Wow–okay.”

And then Monty kisses him, his long fingers catching Miller’s chin and dragging him toward him. The tension eases out of Miller at once as he reaches out for Monty to pull him closer, sighing into Monty’s mouth at this moment of _finally_. 

Finally.


	30. only sees me as a brother

Miller’s not nearly drunk enough for _this_  conversation. But here he is, on Monty’s couch, listening to the kid mope anyway. Monty’s _very_  drunk. Like very drunk. He had probably a million shots. Not, like, actually, but he was drinking to get drunk and here he is.

“Just–what the _hell_ , Nate,” Monty gushes. And fuck Monty for being so fucking cute and fucking calling him Nate and not wanting to date him, okay? How dare he. “It’s been years, you know? You think I’d be over this by now.”

“Heart wants what it wants, kid.”

“Don’t Shakespeare on me,” Monty huffs. “Or kid me.” But it was easier for Miller to distance himself that way. Or distance his heart, he guessed. “I freaking grew _up_ with Jasper,” Monty says. “I had this crush when I was like, twelve. Why isn’t it gone?”

“Don’t know,” Miller mutters. Because Jasper was and is and always will be incredibly straight. So freaking straight. The Extreme Heterosexual™. “Don’t care.”

“He only sees me as a brother,” Monty gushes on. Annoyingly drunk, still. His head in Miller’s lap. And it’s impossible to not want to run his fingers through Monty’s hair, thick and dark and soft and perfect. Monty’s fucking perfect. Except the fact that he’s in love with Jasper. “What do I do?”

_Date me instead, you fucking idiot._

“I don’t know,” Miller mutters. “Get sloppy drunk and make out with someone else?” 

He doesn’t actually mean it. But Monty perks up and looks at him. “You drunk enough for a sloppy make out session?” he asks. 

And Miller’s heart rate picks up. “No,” he admits. And then Monty’s shoving a shot glass into his hand and arching an eyebrow that says _is this okay?_ And Miller takes the shot, and then another, and holy fuck he wants to make out with Monty so bad. 

And four shots later the world is a little tilted, and Monty’s sitting there looking at him, and Miller nods just slightly. Monty’s all lips and tongue and sweet and Miller’s dying, this is what it feels like to die, to have something you want so desperately beneath your hands but not _have_ it. He kisses Monty like the world is on fire and Monty kisses him back, kisses him back, and _God_  this is it. 

When they stop, Monty laying against Miller’s chest, Miller’s hands twisting and turning through Monty’s hair, everything’s just a little numb. 

“Did it help?” Miller rasps.

Monty doesn’t answer. Miller isn’t sure he wants him to.

* * *

 ****He’d thought it was Jasper. Seriously, to Monty, it had always been Jasper. He’d end up with Jasper. Which was highly unlikely because Jasper was the straightest human Monty had ever known, but he was the dream. It was _always Jasper_.

But then Miller was there saying _get over it, make out with someone else_ , and Monty was drunk. And okay, maybe that would help. So he asked Miller to do it, to make out with him. And then–okay. 

Okay.

Okay.

It wasn’t Jasper.

Because there was no way that Jasper would kiss like Miller could. There was no way that Jasper would sigh in Monty’s mouth like he’d been waiting to do this forever. There was no way that Jasper was this intentional. Jasper would never kiss Monty like this, like he was both fragile and powerful, like he was the universe bundled into a person and he didn’t know how to handle it, not like Miller was.

No, Monty wanted _this_. He wanted the feel of Miller’s scruff against his neck, the calloused hands beneath Monty’s shirt. He wanted _this_. 

“Did it help?” Miller asks later. And his hands are twirling through Monty’s hair like they’d been together for ages, and Monty aches. Because this is it, this is what he wants. 

He doesn’t answer, just nestles slightly closer, hoping to muster up the courage to say _yes, yes, yes._

 


	31. hot cop

“That guy’s taking a photo of you.”

Miller looked up from the notepad he was scribbling in and frowned at Bellamy. The two of them were sent downtown to record, in extensive detail, about the mural that had sprung up on an old abandoned factory overnight. If Miller was being honest, he was kind of a fan of it. It had a lot of color and it looked like it was breaking through the concrete rather than just painted on top. But that wasn’t the point. The point was that it wasn’t allowed. 

“What _guy_?” Miller asked.

Bellamy smirked tilting his head toward a car that was parked down the street a bit. A whole flock of people had come out to see the mural and some were parked along the road. 

Miller spotted the car Bellamy was talking about almost immediately. There was a guy holding his phone practically flat against the window, though not necessarily in the direction of the mural. Miller snorted.

“If anything,” Miller muttered, “he’s taking a photo of _you_.” 

Being partners with Bellamy was great, considering they were best friends, but the general public favored Bellamy over Miller. He smiled more. And had curls and freckles. All Miller had going for him was some scruff and a scowl. 

“Nope,” Bellamy said. “Phone was on you when I was at the wall.”

“Bullshit,” Miller responded, ignoring the heat in his cheeks. 

“Just saying.” 

“Maybe he thinks I’m being unethical, or something. And is going to ruin my life with the internet.” 

“Or maybe he thinks you’re hot.” 

Miller knew this wasn’t an argument he was going to win. With a huff he nudged Bellamy off toward a crowd who was gathered, telling him to go ask them some questions about if they knew anything about who had painted the mural. 

The phone stayed in Miller’s direction. 

Whoever was parked in the car wasn’t all that far from Miller, he could see the guy (and his passengers) pretty well. They seemed harmless. Miller glanced down the road before shooting a look at Bellamy, making sure his friend was distracted, before propping his leg up on their cruiser. Miller glanced toward the car and gave a brief wave, mustering up something that was more a smile than a scowl, and watched as the car nearly exploded.

Whoever was in the passenger seat was hooting and the girls in the back were absolutely dying with laughter. The boy up front dropped his phone, his eyes wide and his cheeks red, and turned to say something to his friends. 

 _Christ_.

Miller swallowed his own laughter before climbing down from his own car and heading toward the parked car. The cheering got louder as he got closer and it was getting harder for him to not smile. 

He knocked on the window and the guy in the front seat fumbled to press the button and roll it down. There was a rainbow bracelet around his wrist and Miller counted that as a victory too.

“Get any good photos?” Miller asked.

“You’re a natural,” one of the girls from the back said with a grin. “Could probably be a model instead of a cop.”

“I meant of the mural,” Miller said.

The guy in the passenger seat snorted. “Way to sell us out, Raven,” he said.

“He _posed_ ,” the other girl said. “We didn’t sell anyone out.”

“I’m so sorry,” the guy taking photos burst. “Officer–uh, Miller.”

“Nathan,” Miller corrected. “Please.”

“Nathan,” he echoed.

Miller arched an eyebrow. “Your name’s Nathan too?”

“His name’s _Monty_ ,” the guy in shotgun said with a laugh, reaching to shove his friend. 

“He gets socially awkward when pretty boys talk to him,” the girl Raven said. The other girl leaned forward to give Monty a pat on the shoulder and Miller’s eyes caught on her fingertips, covered with dried paint. “And you’ve got the whole eyelashes thing going for you.”

Miller shook his head and looked back to Monty who was still so pink. “Sorry,” he said again.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Miller told him. _Don’t flirt on the job_ , he reminded himself, but God the guy was cute. “If I wasn’t on duty I might even give you my number.” Monty’s mouth parted slightly. “But instead I’m just going to ask you to let your friend know I’m a big fan of her work.” 

The girl in the back with the paint on her hands grinned. “We’ll pass the message along,” she said.

“My partner–Bellamy–he’s probably more into it than me though, what with the mythological history behind Persephone and Hades.”

“Really?” the girl lit up. She looked through her window toward the mural and grinned. “I wasn’t–I mean, _we_  here in the car had just been discussing the relationship between Persephone and Hades and were unsure if people would like it.” 

“ _Clarke_ ,” the guy in shotgun warned, his eyes just as wide.

“ _Jasper_ ,” she tossed back, looking pleased.  

“I knew it was a bad idea to come back and stake out.”

“You’re just digging us into a deeper hole,” Raven said. “Stop talking.”

“But then we never would’ve gotten to meet Officer Nathan Miller over here,” Clarke added, ignoring Raven’s comment. 

Miller laughed a little, looking over his shoulder at Bellamy who was smirking as he took notes on whatever whoever he was interviewing was saying. 

“Well when do you get off?” Monty asked, recovering. 

Miller looked back. “Hm?”

“You can’t give me your number because you’re on duty,” Monty said slowly. “So when do you get off?” 

Miller quickly transformed into the bashful one. “Oh–um.”

“Unless you weren’t serious,” Monty said, a smile taking his face. “Because then this is just awkward for everyone.” 

All of Monty’s friends were silent on the car, waiting with hopeful eyes and brighter smiles. Miller held Monty’s gaze. “I’m off at four,” he said.

Monty shrugged a little, the blush finally leaving his cheeks. “I guess I’ll see you at the mural around four, then.”

Miller couldn’t stop himself from smiling, it was literally impossible, so he just nodded his head at the car before walking away. He headed toward Bellamy, feeling like sunlight, and gave the mural another look. Bellamy shook his head at him before glancing toward the car where the four people were all laughing and smiling. 

“What did you do?” Bellamy asked.

Miller shrugged. “I think I have a date.”

* * *

 

Monty checked his watch another time before shuffling awkwardly on his feet. He’d been here a while now. It wasn’t even 4:20 ( _haha, blaze it_ ) and Officer Nathan Miller said he got off at 4:00, so it probably wasn’t all that unbelievable that he was still waiting.

Unless the hot cop he met earlier didn’t actually want to meet up. Unless the hot cop was actually planning a stake-out right now. Unless the hot cop was going to arrest Monty for assisting a criminal (Clarke) in a crime (vandalizing). 

He probably shouldn’t have smoked a blunt before meeting up on a sort-of-date with a police officer. 

Monty spun to look over his shoulder and startled, finding Officer Nathan Miller striding up to him. He arched an eyebrow and slowed down, to which Monty held his hands up.

“Don’t worry…” Miller trailed off, squinting a little at the motion. “You’re not under arrest…?”

“Oh, I–no,” Monty burst. Yeah, that blunt did the opposite of calm him down. Just the general sign of _my bad, oh gosh_. “I was surprised to see you.”

“Oh–damn,” Miller said. “Because you actually are under arrest.” Monty’s hands flew up again and Miller laughed, shaking his head. “I’m kidding.” He waited until Monty lowered his hands. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Monty echoed.

“You invited me here, and then you were surprised to see me?” Miller asked. “Should I be offended?” 

“No,” Monty said quickly. “I just–am really bad at social interaction sometimes.” Miller’s smile was so freaking– “Wow. God–okay, I’m sorry for taking photos of you earlier.” Miller laughed a little and shook his head. “You’re just–”

“It’s okay,” Miller cut him off. He shuffled on his feet. “You too.” Monty’s face was on fire. “So did you just want my number? Or did you want to get coffee instead?”

Monty turned to face him and couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “Is both an option?” 


	32. another bet

“No,” Miller murmurs as Monty shifts away from him. “Don’t even think about it.” Monty lets out a soft laugh before nuzzling closer, just for a second. Miller’s still buried in his pillows. “You told me you didn’t have to work today,” Miller practically whines.

“I don’t,” Monty says. Miller’s not an early riser, and Monty’s up with the sun no matter how tired he is. “But I’ve got a crapton of homework, Nate.” Miller nearly groans. Monty arches his neck so he can press a warm kiss to Miller’s forehead. “And besides,” he says softly. “I’ve got to get out of here before Bellamy wakes up and wonder what the heck I’m doing here.” 

A smile creeps onto Miller’s face. He opens one eye at Monty and laughs a little. “You think he’ll kill us when he finds out we’re together?” Miller asks. 

Monty’s smiling too. “He’s your best friend,” he counters. “You’d know more than me.” Miller makes one last attempt at squeezing his boyfriend closer but he’s still half-asleep, and Monty doesn’t like being caught redhanded. “I’ll text you,” he says once he’s out of bed, carefully creeping through Miller’s room to find his clothes. “We can get lunch?”

“Mmm…” Miller trails off, already on his way back to falling asleep. “Miss you already.”

Monty’s heart swells and he pauses with his clothes in his hands. “You’re too much,” he whispers. 

“Get back in bed and prove it,” Miller tries. Monty fights off a laugh and shakes his head. He gets dressed quickly, pulling his Frisbee team sweatshirt over his head, before crossing the room to kiss Miller’s forehead another time. “I’ll see you for lunch,” Miller says sleepily before nuzzling into the warm spot that Monty’s left behind. 

* * *

Monty’s been getting weird looks from his friends all morning. 

He and Raven are in the library getting some chem homework out of the way and she greeted him looking suspicious. Monty still hasn’t figured out how to ask _why are you looking at me so suspiciously_ without having his friends figure out he’s keeping a secret as it is. She studies him from the corner of her eye as she works, not saying anything.

And when Jasper arrived he was all shouts and cheers before stopping, pointing his hand at Monty, and saying, “ _What_.” 

“What?” Monty echoed. 

“You–”

“Shut up, Jordan,” Raven said quickly. “Remember the _pool.”_ Jasper blinked a few times before pointing at her in recognition. And again, the looks continued. 

It wasn’t until Clarke shows up, her lips slightly parted and an eyebrow arched, that Monty gets a little fed up. 

“Am I missing out on a joke or something?” Monty asks. “Because you’re all speaking with your eyes.” 

Raven quirks her shoulder into a shrug. “We like your sweatshirt, is all.”

Monty looks down at the red sweatshirt he’s wearing with a frown. “We all have one,” he responds. They’re all on the same Ultimate Frisbee team, it’s how they met. Therefore, they all have the same freaking sweatshirt. 

“Not that one,” Clarke hums. It takes Monty a moment to realize what she means. His hand flies to his back so he can feel the press of the letters there, and when he feels an _M_  instead of a _G_  his entire face gets hot. “Figure it out?” 

“It’s–” Monty tries. But he stops. He’s wearing Miller’s sweatshirt. The size different wasn’t all that noticeable when he pulled it on this morning. But–okay, it smells like Miller. And it’s cozier. “It’s my boyfriend’s,” Monty finally says. 

Jasper leaps to his feet. “Why didn’t you tell me?!” he shouts, pointing an accusatory finger in Monty’s direction. 

Clarke and Raven high-five across the table. “Bellamy owes us fifty bucks,” Raven says. 

“We bet you’d be the first to break,” Clarke explains. “C’mon, Jasper, they’ve been together for weeks. You bet on this!”

“Still could’ve told me,” Jasper huffs before sinking back down. 

Monty smiles, shaking his head at his friends as he pulls up his phone. 

**From Monty  
well the cat’s out of  
the bag - whoops.   
panera for lunch?**

From Nate  
Raven snapped me a  
picture 20 minutes ago.  
But I knew Bellamy bet  
against me so I was   
waiting for you to break  
first. No hard feelings.

From Nate  
You look better in my   
stuff than I do anyway.   
See you at noon, babe.


	33. apple store mishaps

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Miller glances over his shoulder as he logs into Facebook, knowing that the people around him are judging him for all that he’s worth. There’s a girl on the computer beside him trying out the Photo Booth feature who’s giving him a weird look and he glares at her. “Mind your own business.”

He’s late. Miller’s always fucking late, so it shouldn’t be surprise, but this is insane even for him. Bellamy’s fucking promotion party started _two hours_ ago. Miller got lost in the city just in time for his fucking phone to die, which meant he had no address and no sense of purpose. 

Coming across an Apple store was a Godsend, even though everyone who works at Apple’s a pretentious piece of–

“Can I help you today?” someone asks. Miller’s about to snarl at whoever the fuck it is to go away when he looks up briefly. Miller does a double take, and the guy beams at him. He’s got dimples. “My name’s Monty,” he says. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Again, Miller almost says something rude. But he pauses. “Uh. No.” _I’m late_ , he reminds himself. _No time to flirt_. “Just lost in the city, is all. Needed an address.”

“Oh yeah?” Monty asks. “I live around here. Where’re you looking for?” 

Miller hesitates. Because he doesn’t need help. He never needs help, okay? He can do mostly everything on his own. But–maybe there is a _little_ bit of time for flirting. “It’s on Avenue Street,” Miller tells him. “Because it makes sense to name a street after another type of street.”

Monty laughs a little. “Where on Avenue?” he asks. 

“Grounders?” 

“The Pub?” Monty asks, and Miller nods. “If you take the main road out here down a few streets you’ll hit Tondc Street,” Monty says. “From there it’s a left to Avenue. You won’t be able to miss it from there.” 

Miller feels the tension drain out of him. “Thanks so much,” he says, backpedaling from the computer. “My friend’s going to kill me for being so late.”

“Maybe bat your eyelashes and he’ll forgive you,” Monty says with a smile.

Miller doesn’t know if he’s teasing him or what, but he smiles back. “Thanks again,” he says. And then he’s gone.

* * *

Miller finds Grounders with ease, and thankfully Bellamy’s not that upset that he’s so late. (Clarke distracted him. Which is typical.) He borrows Octavia’s charger and plugs his phone in to charge, vowing to never let it get that bad again, and starts to celebrate with his friends. 

About an hour passes before Raven slings her arm around Miller’s shoulder. She’s grinning and her phone’s in her other hand. “You thinking about getting a Mac?” she asks.

Miller blinks a few times. “What?” Raven’s clearly drunk, from the haziness in her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Like–the computer? I already have one.”

“Ah, maybe it’s broken?”

Miller’s still staring at her in confusion. “What the hell are you on about, Reyes?”

“It’s just–you were in the Apple store earlier today, isn’t that right?” Miller frowns at her before she shoves her phone in his direction. “I really like your last status.”

Miller’s heart drops into his stomach because _fuck_ , he’s become one of those idiots that’s forgotten to log out of his stupid fucking Facebook. He didn’t even use it! That Monty guy helped him before he even found the Facebook evite! 

But instead of something horribly embarrassing or a bunch of teenagers making duck faces, Miller finds a photo of Monty in his Apple uniform with a sweet smile on his face. There’re two photos, one of just Monty, and one with his friends who must also work in the store making faces behind him. 

_Hi - you left your Facebook logged in. Don’t worry, I logged out for you! But you’re cute, so maybe call me sometime? -Monty_

Miller hurries across the pub to find where he plugged his phone in and fumbles to pull up his Facebook. There are hundreds of likes on the photos and Miller’s face gets hot in response. In his friend requests is one from Monty Green. 

* * *

Nathan Miller  
Can’t you get fired  
for posting things   
on peoples Facebook  
pages without logging  
them out?

**Monty Green  
nah that’s a myth, and  
even if it were true i’d  
probably do it again**

Nathan Miller  
Big on taking risks,   
are you?

**Monty Green  
oh hell no, risks   
are the worst. that’s  
why i checked ‘sexual  
preference’ on your   
page before posting  
a pic of myself and  
maybe asking you  
on a date**

Nathan Miller  
All I saw was a request  
for me to call you. Is there  
a date invitation that I  
missed?

**Monty Green  
depends on how  
you would respond   
to said invitation **

Nathan Miller  
I accepted your friend  
request, didn’t I?

**Monty Green  
do you always answer  
in questions?**

Nathan Miller  
Sorry, no. That’s not  
a thing I do. I’m pretty  
bad at the whole   
flirting thing though, so  
this is what you’re stuck  
with. 

Nathan Miller  
Oh, and yes. To a   
potential date, please.

**Monty Green  
gosh you are super  
lame and cute, i am  
so out of my league   
here**

Nathan Miller  
Hardly. I’ve been stalking  
your likes for like, an hour.  
I see that you’ve liked  
“Team Instinct”, and as   
a Mystic myself I don’t   
exactly approve but I can  
respect it. 

**Monty Green  
they’re the meme team,  
i can’t not be on the   
meme team!! **

Nathan Miller  
Lol. You’re cute. So   
date or no date? Because  
I have a lot of opinions  
on Harry Potter and I  
want to see if we see  
eye to eye.

**Monty Green  
um, date. definitely   
date. **


	34. star wars sheets

Miller had only downloaded Snapchat because Monty Green used Snapchat and Miller had a big stupid fucking crush on Monty Green. 

His other friends used it too. Raven liked to send him photos of whatever she was working on in the shop, and Clarke sent photos of whatever artsy thing she was working on at the moment, and Bellamy sent photos of himself in the library not getting work done, and Wells sent photos of all of his dumb nature walks. But Miller didn’t download it for them, he downloaded it for Monty. 

_+snapchat from mgreen_

_(uve got a drinking problem nate)_

Miller looked at the Snap that Monty sent him, feeling his heart solidify and sink into his stomach. 

Going out for drinks was Bellamy’s idea. Miller had turned 21 a few weeks ago so getting into bars was infinitely easier, but half of their friends were still only 20 so it was usually just them, and they mostly only went when Bellamy had a long day and couldn’t handle Jasper’s incessant yapping about life. 

That’s where they were when Miller got the Snap, side by side at the counter each with a beer in their hands. Miller only checked it _because_  it was Monty, and when it came to Monty he was royally fucked. He hadn’t expected…

Well. Monty was in someone else’s bed.

It wasn’t supremely obvious, but Miller had a Monty problem and knew that Monty had Star Wars sheets, even in college, and the sheets behind Monty in the Snap he’d just received were _not Star Wars_. 

“You okay?” Bellamy asked, noticing the sudden shift in mood. Miller popped his shoulder into a shrug and tried to set his phone down, ignoring the bright smile on Bellamy’s face. “Snapping Monty again?” he asked. 

“Mind your own.”

Bellamy made kissy noises until Miller shoved his shoulder. “Are you going to Snap him _back_?” Bellamy practically demanded. “Your my best friend, your happiness is my happiness.”

“I hate you,” Miller responded. But he sent Monty a Snapchat anyway. 

+ _snapchat from millerly_

_(The problem is: I’m not drinking enough.)_

It was only a few seconds before Monty responded again, and Miller’s stomach just got heavier when he opened it. 

_+snapchat from mgreen_

_(dont die, be safe, all that yadda)_

Definitely not taken in Monty’s bed. 

Miller knew he was being ridiculous. It wasn’t like he and Monty were officially a thing (or a thing _at all_ ), but he thought maybe there was something between them. Miller knew he and Harper got out of something a few months ago, so maybe they’d gotten back together? Or maybe Monty was in Jasper’s bed. They were co-dependent as it was. 

He was overreacting. He was seriously overreacting. But he couldn’t fight off that jealous wave anyway. Miller tried. He couldn’t stop himself, he was a naturally jealous person. Which again, he knew was ridiculous in the current situation, but whatever. He ordered another beer. And another. 

_+snapchat from mgreen_

_(you planning on living at the bar or…)_

Miller didn’t respond. Instead he talked to Bellamy (which was why he was out anyway) and ignored his stupid stomach. They called for an Uber around midnight and Miller stumbled back to his dorm room ready for sleep, wishing Bellamy a good night, before making his way upstairs. 

When he pushed open his room, ready to annoy the fuck out of Murphy (because Miller got annoying when he drank), he was surprised to find that his roommate wasn’t home. Instead, Monty was stretched out in Miller’s bed, a book in his hand and a smile on his face.

“Hi,” Miller blurt.

Monty grinned. “Took you long enough,” he said. “Murphy let me in. Went out with Emori. But.” Monty sat up. Miller’s eyes darted to the sheets. Monty was in his bed. Those Snaps were Monty in Miller’s bed. “Everything okay?” Monty asked. “Is this okay?”

“I thought you–” Miller paused. He leaned backwards against the door, his face feeling hot. “I thought you were in someone else’s bed.” 

Monty arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“You have Star Wars sheets,” Miller murmured, not quite looking at the boy still in his bed. “And Snapchat…” Monty was still grinning. 

“Are you stupid?” Monty asked. “Or stupid? That you couldn’t recognize your own sheets?”

“Definitely stupid,” Miller answered. He lowered himself to the edge of his bed as Monty sat up. “I didn’t–I didn’t skimp out on a date or something, did I?” 

Monty shook his head, still grinning. “Not yet. But hey, now that you bring it up. Want to go on a date sometime?” 

“I’d like that,” Miller answered with a smile of his own.


	35. ghosts are real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda happy kinda sad

“My apartment is haunted,” Miller said from his stool at the bar. Bellamy was to the left of him, Monty to the right. “And not the normal kind of haunted, either.” They were all out with their friends. Raven and Clarke were further down one side, and Octavia was there too, but Miller was good where he sat.

“What’s the normal kind of haunted?” Bellamy asked, amused. 

“The kind where you tell the ghost to fucking stop, and they listen,” Miller said. Monty laughed into his cup. “My ghost wakes me up at 2 in the morning to spite me.” He looked between his friends, exhausted, and asked, “Can I stay with one of you?”

“We’ve already got Octavia and Lincoln,” Bellamy said, “but I can run it by Clarke.”

“Nah, it’s okay. Monty?”

Monty considered it. “I mean, my apartment’s haunted too,” he said. “But Jasper’s pretty good at not waking me up at 2 in the morning out of spite. So if you’re cool with it.”

Miller moved in later that week.

While he was unloading boxes in his new room a chill shot down his spine. He turned to find Jasper glowing by the door, perfectly ghostly. “This is my room,” Jasper said.

“Was your room,” Miller answered. “You’re dead.”

Jasper grinned, shrugging a little. “This will always be my room,” he said. “Looks like we’re going to be roommates.”

“We are not going to be roommates,” Miller said, returning to his boxes. “Because you’re dead.” Jasper vanished after that, and minutes later Monty strolled in with Jasper behind him. “I’m glad that the bond you two made was strong enough for Jasper to linger, even after death,” Miller said, “but I swear to God.”

“Nate,” Monty said gently, laughing softly. “Jasper’ll behave. Promise.”

“Yeah,” Jasper hummed. “Promise.”

* * *

Ghosts had been among the living for all eternity. 

They lingered after death for one reason and one reason alone: closure. Until a soul got their final closure in whatever it was they needed, they couldn’t move on. 

The ghost who lived in Miller’s old apartment before he’d moved in with Monty was ancient. Some souls could never get that list bit of closure, could never move on. So he was a bit of an asshole. Other ghosts were newer, like Jasper, and hung around as though it wasn’t a big deal that they were dead.

There were businesses dedicated to helping souls find closure, support groups for the dead. 

Jasper, however, was fully aware that he was dead. He didn’t need to learn coping skills, he didn’t have to accept it. He already had. Now he was just an inconvenience. 

He wasn’t as bad as Miller’s old ghost, though, so at least that was a start. Jasper would hide Miller’s favorite coffee mug just for laughs, or leave fogged up messages on the mirror for when he got out of the shower. In fact, sometimes he was helpful. If Miller was oversleeping Jasper would enter the room, freezing him to death and hurrying him out of bed. Sometimes there’d even be coffee waiting. 

He still wanted his room, though.

“ _You’re dead_ ,” Miller emphasized. “It’s not like you need it to sleep.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Jasper responded. “And–you know–reminding me I’m dead isn’t going to get me to pass over or move on or whatever,” he said. “So you don’t have to keep saying it. I _know_  that I’m dead.” He pouted at the pizza Monty was lifting to his mouth across the room. “Very aware.”

“He misses food,” Monty said with a mouth full of cheese and a smile. 

“Tacos,” Jasper sighed. “Chicken nuggets. Mac and cheese. Oh–sweets! All things sugar.” He faded into the couch a bit. “All things I can no longer have,” he said. “But the room.”

“Get over it Jordan,” Miller said. 

“You agreed to it,” Monty pointed out. “When I asked if Miller could move in you said _sure_.” 

“I didn’t think you meant while I was still _here_ ,” Jasper defended. “Or that he’d take my room!” Monty rolled his eyes fondly. “I’ll get you out of the room,” Jasper vowed. “If it’s the last thing I do!”

* * *

“You like him.”

“No I don’t.”

“You _like him_ ,” Jasper insisted.

Monty huffed. “No I _don’t.”_ Monty knew that he could argue all he wanted, but Jasper was dead. Which meant he was everywhere, all the time. He didn’t need to sleep. He didn’t need to eat. He could see everything, whether Monty wanted him to or not. Jasper made a face at his friend and Monty sighed, dropping his head into his hands. “I don’t _want_  to,” Monty muttered.

But Jasper was right. 

Monty liked him. And by him, he meant Miller. 

It used to be just a little crush. Before Miller physically moved in with Monty, it was just a crush. Miller had nice arms and long eyelashes and a smile that made Monty go a little dizzy. But it was just a crush.

And then he moved in, and God it was more than a crush. 

Miller was considerate. He’d always make sure Monty’s favorite coffee mug was washed the night before so he could wake up and use it. He adapted to Monty’s rules quickly, apologizing when he forgot to take his shoes off by the door or hang his coat on the rack. 

And Miller was kind. It wouldn’t be the first trait Monty (or anyone, for that matter) would assign to him, but he _was_. He’d sincerely ask Monty about his day and he’d change the channel to what Monty wanted to watch and he’d apologize if he was up too late leaving the lights on. Hell, he even put up with Monty’s dead best friend. 

And Monty stared at him, and of course Jasper noticed. 

“Make a move,” Jasper said.

“No.”

“ _Please_ ,” Jasper whined. “I can’t get high anymore so your life is literally the only entertainment that I _have_.”

“Getting high is what killed you,” Monty reminded him matter-of-factly. “So I wouldn’t call it entertainment.”

“One bad hit from one bad dealer and suddenly you’re a ghost,” Jasper muttered. “It’s not my fault they laced it.”

“Should’ve waited for me to call my guy,” Monty said. “Now you’re dead.”

“And it sucks ass, I’m fully aware of the outcome.” Jasper leaned closer, close enough that it gave Monty chills. “Let me investigate.”

“Investigate,” Monty repeated. “What does that mean?”

“Find out if he likes you too!”

“No,” Monty murmured, but he already sounded defeated, because he knew Jasper was going to do it anyway. 

* * *

Miller returned home more exhausted than usual. As he toed off his shoes he made a silent wish that Jasper wasn’t as annoying as usual tonight, that he would let Miller get to sleep without attempting to keep him from his room for once. 

“Hey.”

“Jesus,” Miller jumped, as Jasper was suddenly in front of him. Jasper grinned and looked alive, goofy and disheveled as he always had in life. “Not feeling it today, Jasper,” he muttered.

“I was just saying _hey_ ,” Jasper said. He followed Miller as he made his way through the house. “What’re you doing back to late?”

“I, uh,” Miller hesitated. But whatever. “I had a date.” 

Jasper paused. “A date? How’d it go? Who was it with?”

Miller rolled his eyes. “It was fine. Some guy from work.” He looked around the small apartment. “Monty not home?”

“I think he was hosting a study session for other people in his grad class,” Jasper said. “Tell me about this guy. Who is he? Why haven’t you mentioned him before?”

“For starters,” Miller murmured, “you’ve never asked. Secondly, it was just drinks. Third, and most important, he was boring as fuck. Can I go to bed now?” 

Jasper vanished, leaving the air cold and Miller relieved. 

* * *

One day Monty found Miller in the kitchen, huffing as he looked through the cabinets. He glanced at Monty as he entered before huffing some more. 

“Jasper hid my fucking travel mug again,” Miller muttered.

Monty laughed, shaking his head. “Sorry. That was me.” Miller looked over his shoulder and found Monty with a sheepish expression on his face. “I was running late the other day and just grabbed one. I left it in my car, it’s still dirty.”

“Oh.” Miller shrugged. “That’s–it’s fine. You can borrow it.”

“Thanks,” Monty said. He shifted. “You can, um, use mine. I don’t mind.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

* * *

Parties were generally hosted at Monty’s apartment so people could come see Jasper. Having a dead friend was weird. 

Monty ended up on the couch next to Miller, listening to the laughter of their friends bouncing through the apartment. “You know,” Miller said, “I still think of this place as your apartment.”

“It’s yours now too,” Monty told him. “Your name’s on the lease.” 

“Jasper’s not too happy about that.”

“We always talk about Jasper.”

Miller smiled before taking a sip of beer. “He’s a constant,” Miller said. “Constant annoyance, but a constant.” He turned to look at Monty head on. “What do you want to talk about?”

Monty considered this. “If you died tomorrow, do you think you’d pass on? Or linger?”

“So we’re not talking about Jasper,” Miller said, “but we’re still talking about ghosts? Okay.” Monty laughed a little and Miller shrugged. “No idea. I like to think I’d pass. I’m okay with my life, with how things are.”

“Jasper says he was, too.”

“Maybe Jasper’s a lying fool.” Miller took another drink of his beer. “What about you?”

Monty looked at Miller’s lips, warm and wet. “There’s still so much I want to do,” he murmured.

* * *

The problem with ghosts, even ghosts who had accepted the fact that they were dead, is they had a problem where they were sometimes stuck reliving their death.

Miller came home one evening to find Monty pacing the living room, his eyes wet and his eyebrows furrowed. There was a sound of vomiting, gasping, and Miller knew immediately what was happening. 

Monty hadn’t been home the night Jasper died, though he did find him the next morning, and Monty didn’t need to be here now.

Miller ushered him outside without a word, drove until they reached the bar, and ordered Monty a drink. They sat in silence before Monty downed the shot that had been placed in front of him. 

“Jasper’s tethered,” he said. “Some ghosts have free-roam but he’s tethered to our apartment building.” Miller nodded, encouraging Monty to continue. “Every couple of months he’ll… revert and relive. He never has any recollection of it.” 

“You shouldn’t stay there while it happens,” Miller told him.

Monty gestured for another shot. “I know,” he rasped. “But I wasn’t really there the night of, and…” Monty let out a short breath. “It helps to remind me… that he’s really dead.” Monty blinked hard and shook his head as though shaking the thought from his head. “It’s–in a way, it’s helpful that he ghosted on me. Because it helps me–it’s a transition phase. But he–one day Jasper’s really going to be gone. And things like that remind me.” 

Miller reached out, resting his hand on Monty’s knee. “It’s okay if you already miss him.”

“I do,” Monty choked. “So much. I mean–I know it’s still him, but only fragments, really. And he can’t–God, Nate, he’s _dead_. But he’s still here, and it… it sucks. It sucks so much.”

Miller squeezed his knee. “Yeah.” 

Monty sniffed and closed his eyes. “I wish I could’ve saved him,” he whispered. “He’s my best friend. And I know he deserves to move on. But he deserved to live, too.” 

* * *

“What do you do when we’re not around?” Miller asked.

Jasper tipped his head to the side, letting Miller know he heard him, but didn’t turn to look at him. “It’s a big apartment building,” he said. “People have interesting lives.”

“Jas,” Monty laughed.

“I think,” he said, a touch more serious. Miller and Monty exchanged a look. “I mean, I’m stuck in limbo. I spent a lot of time trying to figure out what’s got to happen before I can move on.”

“We could get you one of those therapists,” Monty said. “They’re really helpful.”

“I’d say that would bore me to death,” Jasper said, “but I’m already dead. Therefore.”

“No therapist,” Miller agreed. “Well what’ve you come up with? Anything?”

Jasper heaved a great sigh. “No idea.”

* * *

Halloween rolled around and Miller came home to the apartment smelling like cookies. He found Monty in the kitchen wearing bright orange socks with spiderwebs all over them, humming that  _spooky scary skeletons_  song. On the counter were warm cookies with ghosts and pumpkins on them. 

“Hey,” Miller said.

Monty grinned. “Hey!” He wiggled his shoulders a little bit. “Want a cookie?”

Miller smiled, watching as Monty sashayed. “Are you drunk?” Miller asked.

“Maybe. How was your date? You’ve been going on a lot of them.”

Miller reached out for a cookie, scanning the kitchen for the bottle of wine Monty had most definitely been drinking, finding it tucked away by the fridge. 

“Nothing special,” he said. He bit into the cookie and moaned a little (plain sugar cookies had always been his favorite) and watched as Monty stilled, his eyes widening just a little and his lips parting. “This cookie though,” Miller said, mouth still full. “Definitely special.”

Monty licked his lips. “They’re pre-made.”

Miller laughed. “Perfectly baked,” he said after another bite. He gestured to the bottle. “Can I pour myself a glass or are you drinking alone?”

“Date that bad?” 

“I’m not allowed to want to get drunk and eat cookies with my roommate?” Miller asked. Monty gestured to the bottle. “Date was fine,” Miller said, pouring a hearty glass of wine for himself. “Just…” he leaned back against the counter, eyes lingering on Monty. “Not what I was looking for.” 

* * *

“If only ghosts could take photos,” Monty lamented as he readjusted his backwards cap. He was going as Ash Ketchum to the bar for Halloween. Miller, also lingering by the door, was dressed in a jumpsuit that had NASA written on the pocket. “You sure you don’t want us to stay in?”

“Are you kidding?” Jasper asked. “If I was alive you bet your ass I’d be at the bar with you guys. Drink like, a million shots for me.”

“Maybe not a million,” Miller said. 

“Kids are gonna love having a ghost hand out candy,” Monty said, readjusting the candy bowl by the door. And truthfully, Jasper looked happy to be doing it. “Ah, crap,” Monty said. “Forgot my wallet.”

When he rushed into bedroom to grab it, Jasper hovered closer to Miller. “Hey,” he said gently, so soft it wouldn’t carry. “Monty loves Halloween. So look out for him, okay?”

Miller nodded. “Always do,” he said. 

Jasper nodded in thanks, and then Monty was back and ready to party. “Have fun you two,” Jasper hummed.

* * *

When they got back later that night, Monty was incredibly drunk. He was leaning on Miller as a support and murmuring the Pokemon theme song under his breath, talking about how lucky he was that they lived in a place where Pokemon Go had a lot of Pokestops. 

After Miller helped Monty into bed, leaving aspirin and a glass of water, he found Jasper waiting for him in the living room. 

“Good night?” Jasper asked.

“Monty tried to do those million shots you mentioned,” Miller said, but he was smiling. “Yeah, it was nice. You?”

“A couple of the kids told their friends a ghost was handing out candy, so we had a lot of people come by. Most were disappointed I’m some gawky 20 year old though.”

Miller laughed. “Well I’m glad it was okay. Goodnight.”

Jasper stopped him. “You’re good for him,” he said. It took Miller a beat to realize he meant Monty. “You keep him steady. He needs that.” 

Miller hesitated. “He’s… a good friend.”

Jasper smirked.

* * *

Monty was just a little livid.

There he’d been, having a decent normal conversation with Miller, when Jasper freaking _tripped him out of no where_. It left Monty stumbling through the room, falling into Miller’s arm, just like Jasper had planned. 

“Sorry,” Monty gushed. Because of course there was no way of Miller knowing Jasper had tripped him. “Sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Miller said with a little laugh. 

They were still clutching one another, looking into one another’s eyes as though something more was happening than Monty simply tripping. 

But then Monty stood, distanced himself, and nodded. He hurried away, cursing Jasper under his breath.

* * *

Monty woke up to cold air, considering Jasper was laying in bed beside him.

“I have news,” Jasper said. Monty startled but he was pretty used to it now. “So while I was not sleeping,” he said, “I heard Miller talk in his sleep.”

“God, you’re weird.”

“He said your name,” Jasper hummed. Monty buried his face under his pillow. “Please make a move. I’m dying.”

“You’re dead,” he muttered, the sound muffled.

“No, I’m _dying_ , of _need_ , for _you two to make out_.”

“Weird,” Monty repeated. 

But his heart was racing all the same.

* * *

One morning Miller and Monty were dancing around one another in the kitchen. They had things down to a routine now, handing off each other’s coffee mugs and side-stepping to pack their lunches. They were like perfectly created gears in a machine, working together in unison. 

“I figured we could do dinner tonight,” Miller said. “Make spaghetti or something, since we’re trying to save money by not ordering out.”

“Are you cooking for me?” Monty teased. “Because if so, then yes.”

“Sure, Green,” Miller laughed. “I’ll cook for you. No promises on how great it’ll be, but–”

“Oh-ho, the mighty Nathan Miller acknowledges his flaws? What universe are we in?”

“Har-har.” They turned to look at each other with matching smiles when Monty did an awkward step, having them toe to toe instead. They were so close that Monty could smell Miller’s aftershave. “Monty,” Miller said softly. “I, um.”

Monty couldn’t look away from Miller’s gaze but out of the corner of his eye he saw Miller lift his hand, as if to cup Monty’s cheek, but watched it fall in the same motion. 

Because it was cold. Because Jasper was there. 

They sprung apart and Miller hurried to get back to packing his lunch. Monty’s face was burning. “Spaghetti it is,” Monty said.

“See you tonight,” Miller murmured, hurrying out of the apartment.

When the apartment door shut, Monty groaned. “ _Jasper_ ,” he whined.

Jasper appeared, looking sheepish. “Sorry! He was totally making moves and I had to see it!” 

Monty groaned again, lifting his hands tonight. “I’d appreciate it if he actually got around to it one of these days,” Monty murmured.

* * *

They kissed that night.

After a spaghetti dinner and a few glasses of wine, Miller and Monty huddled by the sink to do the dishes. There was laughter and brushing hands before Miller grumbled out, “Fuck it.” 

With sudsy hands he cupped Monty’s cheeks and kissed him gently. Monty was smiling so widely it was barely a kiss but he kept Miller close by gripping his shirt and anchoring him there. After just a beat Miller pulled away and Monty made a noise of protest.

“Why?” Monty practically demanded at the small distance.

“Jasper,” Miller murmured against Monty’s mouth. “He’s going to be nosy.”

“Nah,” Monty kissed him again, having wanted to for so long. “He knows how bad I’ve wanted to do this.” Miller must’ve thought that was explanation enough because he leaned in to kiss Monty again. 

They kissed a lot.

It was warm and warm and warm and warm, Miller’s hands moving up and down Monty’s body, Monty sighing into his mouth. By the time they stumbled to Monty’s bedroom they’d already shed most of their clothes.

They woke up in the morning, Monty wrapped around Miller under the covers, to find Jasper standing at the foot of the bed looking smug. They both jumped a little but Jasper remained unaffected. 

“Told you I’d get my room back,” Jasper said. 

Miller rolled his eyes so hard it made his head hurt and Monty laughed into Miller’s side. 

“Go away, Jordan,” Miller murmured. “I’m trying to enjoy myself.”

Jasper’s echoing laugh was heard as he vanished.

* * *

When they managed to get out of bed, Miller always tugging Monty back for one more kiss, Monty always grinning too big for it to really constitute as one, the apartment felt weirdly settled.

They made their place in the kitchen, Miller cooking up pancakes for the two of them, when Jasper floated in fainter than either of them had seen him in a long time.

“I’ve got to go,” Jasper said.

Monty sprung out of his seat. “What?”

Jasper smiled. “I’ve got to go,” he said softly. “It’s time.” He reached out to his best friend who shot Miller a confused, concerned look, and Monty and Jasper hugged. “You’re happy, you’re cared for,” Jasper told Monty. “You’re loved. That’s all that I could ask for.”

“Jasper,” Monty choked. “Wait.”

“I’m ready,” he said. “I’m really ready.” Jasper looked to Miller. “Thanks, man.”

“No,” Miller shook his head, “thank you.” He considered Jasper for a moment before saying, “We’ll make your room a game room, or something.”

Jasper grinned. “Hell yeah.” 

Jasper kissed Monty on the forehead, told him he loved him one last time, and faded into something more. 

Monty blinked hard before turning to look at Miller who was watching him carefully. “Jasper… couldn’t pass on until I got laid?!”

The laugh that escaped Miller was brilliant. He crossed the room to Monty and cupped his cheeks, kissing him firmly. “I think he couldn’t pass until he knew you had someone. Jasper loved you.”

“God this sucks,” Monty muttered. But he kissed Miller again anyway. “But it was time.”

“It was time,” Miller agreed. 

* * *

They moved Miller’s things out of Jasper’s bedroom that night. 

While the quiet of the apartment was unexpected, it was also welcome. Monty curled into Miller’s side on the couch and nestled as close as he could. 


	36. election day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not the american presidential election tho, fuck that

Being in a new school was not exactly what Monty wanted to do. But when his dad died and his mom moved, Monty was forced to go along with her. Thankfully his childhood friend Jasper would be there, as he moved a few years ago, so Monty at least had something to look forward to.

But being there, with the lockers that were the wrong color and the kids that looked pissed to even be there, Monty was less than thrilled. “It’s just another school,” Jasper said by Monty’s side. “Full of more moody kids. Nothing special.”

“Nothing special,” Monty echoed with a sigh before slinging his backpack over his shoulder. They started down the hall, Monty still trying to learn the hallways, when a conversation a few paces ahead of him caught his ear.

“Whatever, Miller,” one guy said, his long greasy hair in his face. “You always look hot.” Jasper nudged Monty with a little laugh before the kid added, “No homo though.” 

“Of course not,” Monty murmured under his breath. “Because screw the homos, right?”

“ _Sike!”_ the kid shouted. He reared his hand back and smacked Miller on the ass, enough that Monty and Jasper both jumped at the sound. “You are the gayest piece of shit I know!”

“Fuck off, Murphy.” 

“But actually,” Murphy continued. “All the homo, dude. Good luck on your _date_.”

“I seriously hate you,” Miller muttered back. “It’s not a date. It’s a fucking election. And Griffin’s going to wipe the floor with me. The least I can do is look _sort of_ professional.”

Monty gave Jasper a look. “For the school’s LGBT club,” Jasper elaborated. “Miller and Clarke are running for president.” 

Monty startled. “So, like, actually homo?” Monty asked.

Jasper laughed. “Super homo.”

–

Monty ended up at the election that afternoon. He hadn’t spoken about it in so many words, but Jasper knew Monty was still trying to figure himself out. So Jasper sat in the seat beside Monty as Nathan Miller and Clarke Griffin stood in front of the crowd and gave their speeches.

Monty was distracted. He didn’t hear much of the word. He was more focused on Miller, his long eyelashes and the scowl he wore when Clarke spoke. He didn’t seem like he’d be a very friendly president, but dammit he was hot. 

“Clarke’s bisexual,” Jasper said from the spot next to Monty. “And Miller is gay as hell.”

“Interesting,” Monty said.

Jasper waggled his eyebrows. 

–

“I voted for you,” Monty said, approaching Miller once the club was dismissed. Miller turned to look at him, eyebrows high on his forehead as he appraised Monty twice before speaking. 

“Thanks,” Miller said. “I still lost. But it’s the thought that counts.” Miller leaned back against the wall, tipping his head slightly to the side. “You’re new,” he said.

“Literally,” Monty agreed. “Just moved in.” 

Miller extended his hand in a greeting. “Nice to meet you,” he said. And then after a beat. “Nate.” 

“Monty,” he returned.

“Shopping for extra-curriculars?” Nate asked. “Or truly interested in joining?” 

Monty was still curious about the fact that he’d introduced himself as Nate, despite the fact that everyone in passing had been calling him Miller. “Truly interested in joining,” Monty said. “I’m, ah, still figuring things out. But. Yeah.” 

Nate grinned. “Great.” He scanned Monty another time. “I’ll see you around, then.” 

–

“New kid’s cute, huh,” Bellamy said at the lunch table, leaning over and giving Miller _a look_. “Saw you talking to him after the meeting, yesterday.”

“Mind your own, Bellamy.”

Bellamy smirked. “Monty, was it?”

“Bellamy,” Miller warned. “He said he’s figuring himself out. And he’s new. I’m not going to pin him against the wall because I think he’s cute.” 

“So you _do_  think he’s cute,” Bellamy said. 

“Who’s cute?” Murphy asked, sinking into the seat beside Miller.

“Don’t,” Miller muttered.

“New kid,” Bellamy answered with a grin.

“I hate both of you,” Miller told his friends.

–

Monty showed up to every meeting for the next two months, and Miller was forced to acknowledge the fact that–fuck it, the kid was cute. Really fucking cute, with his sweet little smile and laugh brighter than the sun. 

When Monty lingered back after one particularly long meeting instead of fleeing with the rest of the members, Miller lingered too. Even Clarke had hurried off, probably to see Bellamy, so it was just the two of them in the room. 

“No where to go?” Miller asked.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you.” 

“Oh yeah?” Miller took a step toward him. “Have you figured yourself out yet?”

“Not entirely,” Monty admitted. “But I’m going to ask you on a date anyway.” Miller blinked a few times, watching the smile that grew on Monty’s face. “So, Nate,” he said. “Want to go on a date?” 

“Yeah,” Miller answered. 

Monty laughed. “That was fast.”

“Well it was either you ask me or me ask you,” Miller said, “so I’ve been waiting.”

Monty laughed another time, extending his hand and wiggling his fingers. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. 


	37. making bellarke happen

**From Miller** **  
** **If I get one more drunk  
text from Bellamy whining   
about how pretty Clarke is,   
I’m going to rip off his hands.**

Monty grinned at the message on his phone, looking up across the room where Miller was sitting. He was frowning at his phone, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. Bellamy, also across the room, was squinting at his phone as he quickly typed out messages.

**From Monty** **  
** **Send them to meee!**

Monty’s eyes traveled up to Miller again and watched as a smirk too his face. He looked over at Monty, shaking his head slightly, and Monty responded with a silent nod. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, drunk-smiles on their faces, before Monty’s phone buzzed with screenshots of the text. A laugh bubbled out of him before he could stop it.

The conversation was the following:

**From Bellamy** **  
** **But like……… look at her**

**From Miller  
I have. I’m still gay.**

**From Bellamy** **  
** **Miller plaese do not  
parotnize me**

**From Bellamy** **  
** **Its like she dosent even  
know**

**From Bellamy** **  
** **Thats so stressful… Im  
stressed. She has to know**

**From Bellamy** **  
** **did you see her smiel…  
fuck**

Monty laughed again, and when he looked up toward Miller he found him watching Monty with a lazy smile. He cocked one of his shoulders into a shrug and Monty grinned, shaking his head. Monty tipped his head in Clarke’s direction where she was nestled on the couch with Raven, the two of them deep in quiet conversation. It was a typical Friday night, everyone lounging around Monty and Jasper’s apartment either drunk or high, catching up after the past week of work.

But something about tonight felt different. Like they were on the edge of something amazing about to begin. And Monty had a feeling that it was up to him to start it.

**-Group Chat Created**

**_\+ Octavia Blake Added!_  
+Raven Reyes Added!  
+Nathan Miller Added!  
+Jasper Jordan Added!  
+Maya Vie Added!  
+Lincoln Woods Added!  
+Wells Jaha Added!**

**From Raven** **  
** **what is this??**

**From Lincoln** **  
** **Not another group chat…**

**From Jasper** **  
** **OMG IS IT HAPPENING**

**From Octavia** **  
** **is what happening. whats  
happening**

**From Wells** **  
** **Is there a reason Bellamy  
and Clarke aren’t in this   
chat?**

**From Monty** **  
** **Guys… I think it’s time we  
make #Bellarke happen.**

**From Jasper** **  
** **YES**

* * *

“This is going to bite us in the ass,” Miller said, reaching to take the blunt from Monty’s hand. They were side by side on the couch with their various friends scattered around the room. It was Monday night and they’d arranged, via their new group chat (titled BELLARKE IS REAL because Jasper had no chill), to meet up and discuss a plan. Because frankly, it was out of control. Bellamy and Clarke were out of control. They needed to get together, and it wasn’t going to happen unless their friends shoved them at one another. “They’re going to find out what we’re doing,” Miller said after taking a hit, “and then avoid each other out of spite.”

“Nah,” Jasper called from where he was seated, arm draped around Maya’s shoulder. “Once they realize they’re in love with each other, nothing else matters.”

Miller rolled his eyes, passing the blunt back to Monty. “Into each other,” Miller said, “yes. In love?”

“More than likely,” Raven chimed. “I got the notification that I was in the group chat _literally_ while Clarke was obsessing over Bellamy’s arms.” Octavia made a gagging sound and Monty laughed out a puff of smoke. “What’s the plan?”

“Why does there have to be a plan?” Wells asked with a sigh. “Can’t they just work it out on their own?” Lincoln nodded in agreement, pointing to Wells to express where his thoughts stood.

“Why can’t we just tell them?” Maya said. “It’s that simple, I think. Like, ‘hey Bellamy, did you know Clarke likes your arms?’ Or something like that.”

“Number one,” Jasper said, tugging his girlfriend closer. “That’s so boring.”

“Number two,” Monty called from across the room, “they’ll never believe us. Or act on it. Because, like Miller said, they’re spiteful when they want to be.”

“Give them a break,” Lincoln said. “They’re smart people.”

“About everyone else,” Octavia said. “Not about each other. I’m with Raven. What’s the plan?”

* * *

It was a plan with steps, and the steps were divided amongst the gang. A Four Step Plan. Because when they went all out, they went all out.

 _Step 1:_ A Double Date with Lincoln and Octavia – Accidentally. Because accidental double dates are the way to someone’s heart.

**From Octavia** **  
** **theyve definitely realized this is  
an accidental double date… but   
theyre into it**

**From Lincoln** **  
** **Please stop texting during our  
date, Octavia.**

“I think it’s going well,” Monty said, stretching out across his couch and propping his legs up on Miller’s knees at the other end, lowering the conversation he was reading on his phone. “Don’t you?

“This is too dramatic,” Miller returned. He eyed Monty’s feet on his lap but opted not to push him off. “Even for me.”

“Something too dramatic for Nathan Miller?” Monty asked. “I didn’t realize that was possible.”

“Watch it, Green.”

* * *

 _Step 2:_ Wells Needs Advice™ – This was a slightly more private step of the plan, mostly shared only with Miller. Because Wells really _did_ need advice. But it was dating advice. About Raven. That Raven couldn’t know about.

**From Wells  
Clarke started talking about   
how taking risks could lead to  
something amazing and Bellamy  
got all misty eyed**

**From Raven  
what the hell were you   
even talking about with them??**

**From Octavia  
yea this part of the plan  
was titled Wells In Charge   
which is not helpful to me  
who likes to be in charge**

**From Miller  
Mind your own business**

“It’s Raven,” Monty said at the bar, “isn’t it?”

It was just him and Miller again, something that had been happening a bit more often these past few weeks than Monty had anticipated. Jasper had just always been off and busy with Maya, and everyone else had their people. Miller and Monty were always free, and Monty liked spending his time with him.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Miller said, reaching for his beer.

“You figure someone who took four years of drama classes would be a better liar,” Monty said with a smile. Miller hummed into his bottle before smiling back. “They’d be good together,” Monty said. “Wells and Raven.”

Monty tried not to blush when Miller’s eyes lowered to Monty’s mouth for a long moment. “Yeah,” Miller murmured. “They would.”

* * *

 _Step 3_ : Jasper’s Thinking About Proposing. Monty took a lot of steps in this one, considering it was his best friend making the moves, but Maya was in on it too.

**From Jasper** **  
** **i thought they’d be weirded out????  
that i wanted to talk to them   
about marriage?????**

**From Monty** **  
** **They weren’t???**

**From Jasper** **  
** **THEY WEREN’T!!!!**

**From Jasper** **  
** **they seemed… wistful?????**

**From Jasper** **  
** **also maya babe they made  
some really good points**

**From Maya** **  
** **Don’t you dare propose to me  
over this group chat, Jasper Jordan.**

“You ever want to get married?” Miller asked. They were on Monty’s balcony again, passing a blunt back and forth and watching the city below them slowly chugging along.

Monty slipped his phone back into his pocket and reached for the blunt. “Uh.” He took a long drag. “Yeah,” Monty answered. “Ideally.”

He passed the blunt back and Miller waited a beat before taking a hit. “Me too,” he said. “I just…” he trailed off. “Never mind.”

“Oh no,” Monty teased, “Nate’s having feelings again. Time to shut down.”

Miller rolled his eyes but there was a soft smile on his face. “I just want it to be right,” Miller told him. “Like—I don’t have something like Jasper and Maya. Or—fuck, or even Bellamy and Clarke.”

Monty was still smiling. “They’re not Bellamy and Clarke yet.”

“Not yet. But we know they will be.”

Monty’s smile stretched into a grin. “So you’ll find your not yet,” Monty told him. Miller took another drag, and Monty felt his heart shifting inside of his chest. “I believe that.”

* * *

 _Step 4_ : Surprise! Dinner For Two.

This was the part of the plan that Monty finally had say in. He’d been watching his friends doing their part for weeks now and he was excited to finally have his own little push. It was the most important one, and if Jasper hadn’t been busy at work then he would’ve been here too considering he was so invested in the development of his friend’s relationship. Everything else had unfolded over text.

“I still think it’s going to bite us in the ass,” Miller told Monty one night when just the two of them were sharing a blunt on the balcony. “They’re adults. Maybe Wells was right. They can figure it out on their own.”

“Maybe,” Monty agreed. “But this is more fun.”

And now here Monty was, cooking a fancy dinner in Clarke’s apartment by himself, waiting for Raven to arrive and help. He hummed as he stirred the pasta and mixed the sauce. There was a rapid knock on the door and Monty stepped away from the oven, tossing a hand towel over his shoulder, and started for the door to let Raven in. Raven had given Monty her key to get into her and Clarke’s apartment before she got off work. But when Monty pulled open the door, he was surprised to find Miller standing on the other side.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Monty asked as Miller stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. “I thought Raven was coming?”

“She got caught up at work,” Miller answered. He hurried into the room and started for the kitchen. “Where do you need me?” Monty gestured across the kitchen to where he’d started preparing a salad but gotten distracted with the pasta. “You’ve gotten a lot done,” Miller said.

“Bellamy’ll be here first,” Monty told him. “Around six. Clarke soon after.” He shrugged, smiling over his shoulder. “I wanted it to all be ready so we can be gone by the time they arrive.” Miller shook his head at him but got to work. “What?” Monty asked. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you any way,” Miller said with a laugh. “You’re just funny.”

Monty pouted. “How?”

“You’re very invested in Bellamy and Clarke hooking up, is all.”

“Correction,” Monty said. “I’m very invested in the happiness of my friends.” Miller shook his head again but he was still smiling. “Oh, c’mon, Nate,” Monty said. “You know just as well as I do that they’ve got to get over themselves. They’ll be great together.”

“They will,” Miller agreed.

Things were going great until Monty got distracted. He started feeding Miller samples of the sauce he’d created, grinning when a bit lingered in the corner of his mouth, swiping it away with his thumb slowly. How they managed to get everything set up on the table was a mystery.

“Ah, crap,” Monty said after everything was situated. His phone was humming in his pocket from a timer. “The garlic bread!”

He and Miller raced back to the kitchen to pull the bread out and place it in a basket. It took so long though (they didn’t want to burn their fingers) that there was a brisk knock on the door followed by Bellamy’s voice, “Raven?”

“Shit,” Miller muttered. “Cover blown.”

“ _No_ ,” Monty stressed. He’d worked too hard, this was not going to fall apart. Absolutely not. He curled his fingers around Miller’s wrist and tugged him toward the closest closet, forcing him inside seconds before the front door opened with Bellamy letting himself in. “Shhh,” Monty scolded Miller, forcing his hand over Miller’s mouth.

Miller smirked. “I’m over being in the closet, Green.”

“You’re funny,” Monty said back. “Just—shh!”

“Raven?” Bellamy called again.

Miller tipped his head backwards and out of Monty’s grasp, watching as the man so close to him was edging ever closer to the door to listen. There was a jangle of keys and then the sound of the front door opening again, followed by silence. “I didn’t know you were coming over,” Clarke said, her voice a little high.

“Raven said she wanted to talk,” Bellamy said. “But evidently, Raven is not here.”

There was a pause. “Didn’t realize you, um,” Clarke paused. “You cooked dinner for her?”

“What?” Bellamy asked. “No. This was—this was here when I got here.”

“ _Yesssss,”_ Monty whispered, a smile lighting up his face. Miller shook his head again, and Monty’s eyes darted to him. “Don’t,” he warned.

“You’re cute, is all,” Miller said. Monty’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Shut up.”

“You shut up,” Monty teased back.

There was a misstep, with Monty trying to get slightly closer to the door, that led them a little closer than intended. Miller tried to tilt his hips backwards but the angle was wrong and he couldn’t move much. He propped his head backwards against the wall and Monty turned back to look at him.

“Sorry,” Miller murmured.

“For?”

Outside of the closet, Bellamy spoke again. “Looks like Raven never intended to be here at all,” he said.

“Close quarters, is all,” Miller whispered back.

“We might as well sit down,” Clarke returned. “Right?”

“It’s fine,” Monty whispered back. He edged his hips a little closer. “Really.” Miller licked his lips, and Monty watched the motion. “We should’ve stayed,” he said. “Double date.”

Maybe it was the dark of the closet, or the thrill because their friends were just outside the door, but Monty was feeling brave. He slid his hands around Miller’s hips and listened as Miller’s breath got caught in his throat.

“Date?” Miller asked.

“We did make the food,” Monty said. “Tasted good, too. The samples we had.”

“That’s not what I…” Miller trailed off.

Monty’s mouth curved into a wicked smile. “Date,” he echoed gently. “If that’s…” he trailed off, but Miller nodded. Monty tugged him harder, and Miller reached up on his own to pull Monty close. “You think I’m cute?” Monty asked.

“No, I hate you,” Miller responded without any heat. He leaned in closer, sighing when Monty smiled in response, “Monty,” Miller murmured. “We’re in the closet.”

“So?”

“They’ll find us,” Miller whispered.

Monty’s mouth curved into a wider smile. “ _So?_ ” God, Miller was so far past wanting. The way he craved Monty was indescribable. It had started with small moments, the two of them together when no one else had around, and evolved into Miller watching Monty’s mouth curl around a blunt and drag his hands through his shiny hair and smile like the world was impossibly good. Monty licked his lips. “Nate,” he said tightly. “I want…”

Miller curved his hand around Monty’s cheek. “Want what?” he whispered.

Monty leaned into Miller’s touch and stretched forward, pressing his lips to Miller’s. Miller sighed and Monty clung to him, winding his arms even more around Miller’s waist. They kissed deeply, nothing but the two of them in the small closet pressing into Raven and Clarke’s winter coats. Miller’s hips jerked forward and Monty groaned into his mouth. It was a sound so desperate and full of want that Miller lost himself for a moment, stepping forward and crowding Monty backwards against the opposite wall. The coats that were hanging were heavy against them but the only thing that Miller knew was Monty, Monty, Monty. His hips twirled and Monty groaned again, his hands tugging Miller toward him forcefully. They darted under his shirt before pushing it upwards.

“Closet,” Miller reminded him breathlessly.

“Don’t care,” Monty whined, and at that moment neither did Miller. He reached down and ripped his shirt off of him, tugging the hem up and over his head until he was bare-chested. Monty groaned another time and it warmed Miller entirely. “ _Please_ ,” Monty breathed, and Miller was gone.

He’d do anything that Monty wanted.

His hands were quick and moving urgently as they tugged Monty’s shirt over his head before crashing his lips back to Monty’s. Monty’s mouth was warm and moving against Miller’s perfectly, his tongue slipping into Miller’s mouth as Monty palmed the front of his jeans.

“Fuck, baby,” Miller rasped.

“ _Want you_ ,” Monty breathed, and Miller nodded. Again and again and again as he kissed Monty frantically, as though this was the only chance they were going to get to do it. There was more motion outside of the closet but Miller didn’t care, he could barely hear it. _Do you think they set this up?_ Clarke asked Bellamy. Her voice was confused. But Monty was melting under his hands and Miller didn’t care, he didn’t care. “Nate, yes, yes,” Monty pleaded.

“No,” Miller forced out. He pulled back, his hands firm against Monty’s shoulders. “No,” he said again. “Not here.” Monty looked confused so Miller kissed him quickly. “My apartment’s ten minutes away.”

“So far,” Monty whined.

“Too bad.” Miller reached out and pushed the door open, casting light into the small room. Bellamy and Clarke both turned from the table, their mouths open at a shirtless Monty and a very disheveled Miller, but that didn’t dignify a response. “Just—make out already,” Miller said.

Bellamy awkwardly pushed himself to his feet. “Did you—”

“No time to explain,” Monty said, pushing Miller toward the door. “Places to be, things to do. Or, well, people.”

Clarke laughed loudly, and Miller couldn’t wipe the grin from his face.

* * *

**From Wells  
So, am I the only  
one that got the  
Snapchat of Bellamy  
kissing Clarke on   
the cheek, or what?**

**From Jasper  
WAIT. WHAT.**

**From Raven  
smoochy smoochy**

**From Octavia  
about TIME**

**From Jasper  
WHAT! SNAPCHAT!**

**From Jasper  
@EARTH TO MONTY**

**From Jasper  
did anyone screenshot  
this I am FREAKIN OUT  
help**

**From Jasper  
WHERE IS MONTY AND  
MILLER**

**From Raven  
smoochy smoochy**

**From Miller  
We’re busy. You’re  
welcome.**

**From Jasper  
AHH**


	38. missed the plane

Monty’s happy that his friends are happy. Seriously. He is. But he’s _exhausted_. 

The flight in from California to Delaware was a long one. There were crying babies and grumpy old men and the turbulence had been out of control. All Monty wants to do is take a shower and go to bed. But Jasper’s bouncing on his toes at the fact that his friend is home and Bellamy insists Clarke and Raven are waiting for them at Grounders, the old bar they all hung out in before Monty left, and he gets roped into going along anyway. 

“It’s so good to see you,” Raven says, and then so does Clarke, and Monty’s basically being passed around like a doll. But he loves his friends, and he’s happy they’re happy. “How was your flight?”

Clarke orders Monty a drink and the five of them stretch out across the counter. 

It feels right. Being home. But Monty glances down the row at his friends and knows that something’s missing. Even when Octavia joins a bit later, her shift at the station ending a little late, Monty still can’t ignore that hole in his chest. 

So he drinks. And he listens to Jasper ramble about Maya, and Monty drinks. And Raven’s dating a new guy, and Monty drinks. And soon it’s nearly midnight, Clarke and Octavia have moved to the dartboard across the bar and Raven and Jasper are showing each other pictures on their phones, and Monty ends up alone beside Bellamy who stopped drinking a while ago.

“You okay?” Bellamy asks. Monty downs the rest of his beer, wishing it were something stronger. “You miss him?” he tries. 

Monty scoffs and laughs at the same time, but it comes out sounding so sad. “No,” he lies. Because it’s easier to lie than to admit it. That even after three years, Monty still loves the boy he left behind. “What’s he doing tonight?” 

“Miller?” Bellamy asks, just to confirm. And even hearing Miller’s name makes Monty ache. “Working late, I guess,” he says. “I didn’t tell him you were coming home.” 

Monty motions for another beer. “No?”

“I don’t know,” Bellamy says. “I figured after he went after your plane and you still didn’t work out…” he trails off, shaking his head slightly. Because Bellamy’s always going to put the well-being of his best friend over others, and that’s okay. Miller’s always been Bellamy’s right hand. 

But Monty’s frozen, and that’s not why. “What do you mean?” he asks.

Bellamy turns. “What do you mean what do I mean?” he asks. “When you left for Cali,” Bellamy says. “And you and Miller ended things. He went–he went after your plane. He went after you.” 

“No he–no he didn’t?” 

Bellamy shifts on his stool to better look at Monty. “He never told you?” Bellamy asks, but it sounds more like a demand. “He was a damn wreck when he got back. I thought that he’d…” Bellamy trails off in confusion. 

The world seems to tilt a little bit, and Monty suddenly has to sort out memories he’d pushed to the back of his mind three years ago.

When Monty moved to California for graduate school, he and Miller broke up. It was mostly Miller’s idea, and there wasn’t a lot of explanation for it other than distance, and Monty didn’t understand. _He didn’t understand_. So he shut out Miller completely, booking an earlier flight than he’d said. 

And then when he got to California there was a week of phone calls. A week of Miller reaching out to him until they slowly petered off. 

Monty feels like his heart has turned to stone in his chest. 

* * *

“No, really,” Miller murmurs to the man lingering in the doorway. “I’m good here. You can head home.”

Bryan offers a weak but hopeful smile before he turns on his heel, leaving Miller alone in the museum. He waits until Bryan’s footsteps are gone completely before letting out a deep sigh.

It’s early evening and Miller’s tired. The museum closes early on Sunday and though he loves his job dearly, sometimes it’s exhausting. More exhausting, still, is the new hire Bryan and his attempts at getting Miller to go on a date with him. 

It’s not that Bryan’s not attractive and kind, he’s both of those things. But Miller’s searching for something that Bryan just doesn’t have, and he’s too old to settle for anything less. He’s had his heartbroken (and perhaps broken another’s) and he doesn’t want to do that again. He wants to be sure. He wants to find that _someone_. 

Maybe he’s missing out on something wonderful in the meantime, but that’s okay with him. It’s better than more heartbreak. 

Miller looks down at his clipboard and starts his rounds, closing down room after room. He loves the museum because of this, because he gets to surround himself in beautiful art from centuries ago (or days more recent) while still doing something he knows he’s good at: security. He closes down each room one by one, flicking off the lights, securing the exhibit before moving on. 

“Nate?”

Miller startles, not only at the sound of someone’s voice but that it’s _his_ voice. He pauses, his eyes still down on the clipboard in his hands, refusing to believe it. He knows that Bryan must’ve locked the front door like he always did when he left before Miller, but there was one person who knew another way to get in. One person who Miller had told how to get in. 

He can’t move. This isn’t happening. 

And then, another question.

“You came after me?”

Monty’s question is loud, out of place in the quiet museum, and Miller feels his veins turn to ice. He spins slowly as he looks over his shoulder, just to make sure, and there he is. Miller hasn’t seen him in years. 

But he’s here now. Monty’s here. Feet away from him in this dimly lit museum. 

“Monty,” Miller rasps. 

“Bellamy said you came after me,” Monty continues, striding toward Miller. Miller doesn’t move. He can’t move. Because Monty’s _here_. Why is Monty here? “When I left for California,” he elaborates. “Bellamy said…” 

Miller can’t even _think_. “Why’re–what’re you–” Everything is a blur before he settles on the word, “Home.”

“Just for a couple of days,” Monty answers. And suddenly, Miller’s heart breaks all over again. He didn’t even know that was possible. He shuffles on his feet and looks away, struggling to even maintain his breathing. “Is it true?” Monty presses on. 

But Miller can’t answer that. “What’re you _doing_  here?” he nearly demands, but his voice is still hoarse. “How did you–why–Monty…” Miller needs an explanation right now. “Why–”

“I need to know,” Monty interrupts.

“Why?” Miller shoots back just as fast. “It was years ago.”

Monty’s voice hitches like it used to when he got upset, edging upwards toward angry, and the fact that Miller still knows this makes everything ache. “I just _do_ ,” he huffs.

“No, that’s not a reason.”

“It’s a perfectly good reason,” Monty says. And the anger is more pronounced now. And okay, maybe Monty has every right to be angry. “Did you come after my plane?” 

“Monty–”

Angrier still, “Did you?”

It erupts. “ _Yes!”_ The word explodes out of him and it doesn’t make Miller feel any better once it echoes in the empty hallway. “Yes, Monty,” he carries on sharply. “Of course I did.”

“Why?”

“Why?” Miller echoes. “Because I…” he trails off.

“Because you what?” Monty presses, stepping closer. 

And again, Miller explodes. “Because I loved you!” Monty falters in his steps. And Miller falters in his speech. “Is that what you want to hear?” he asks loudly, desperately. “That I went after you because I loved you?”

“No,” Monty answers. And it’s nearly a whisper. “You’re the one who ended things. Why did you…” And it’s Monty’s turn to be quiet, to be confused. “I don’t understand,” he says, shaking his head just slightly. 

Miller doesn’t even know where to begin. 

He knows what he did was selfish, was stupid, but at the time it made so much sense. “You were going to stay,” Miller says after a beat of silence. His voice is softer now. And Monty’s closer. And everything between them still aches so, so much. “You got into that grad school and you were so excited but you were going to stay. For me. And Monty, I couldn’t…” Miller trails off and looks away. “I couldn’t be that reason.”

“But I’d decided to go anyway,” Monty says. “I was leaving and you still–”

“I was afraid,” Miller cuts him off. He was so fucking terrified. “You were going away and I was afraid of so many _things_ …” Of Monty finding someone better. Of Monty wanting to stay in California after things were done. Of Monty feeling weighed down by the distance. Of Monty resenting him for not coming with him. Of fighting. Of even bigger heartbreak. “It was easier,” Miller rasped.

“It was easier?” Monty demands. “We were together for _three years_!” Miller looks away again and clenches his teeth to keep his chin from quivering. This was not what he’d been expecting to do today. In fact, he hadn’t anticipated on seeing Monty in years. “Jesus, Nate!” He paces away slightly, looking frustrated. “I don’t understand. I still don’t understand. Bellamy told me yesterday and I can’t stop _thinking_ about it. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I _tried_ ,” Miller croaks. He called a dozen times, and Monty kept ignoring him. “I gave up.” 

Monty pauses then and turns to look at him. “I loved you,” Monty says. “And you broke up with me. I thought–” he swallows, looking as broken as he did the day Miller told him it was over. “I thought I was going to marry you.”

“Don’t do this.”

“I thought you were _it_.” 

“Monty,” Miller pleads. 

And then they’re both silent. Miller feels like he can’t breathe. Every breath is a struggle and looking at Monty is even harder to do.

He _loved_  this boy. So infinitely much. 

They’d gotten together during their sophomore year of college and they’d been inevitable, everyone knew it. They’d danced around each other during freshmen year and ended up always by one another’s side. Monty would fall asleep against Miller after a night of studying, Miller would look out for Monty when everyone drank too much. They balanced each other out. They’d been perfect.

When they kissed sophomore year everything went from there. They held hands and let their friends tease them. They took as many classes together as they could despite their different majors. They fell in love day by day.

And it was _good_. They had their fights like any couple did, especially considering Miller struggled to talk about his feelings when things got all twisted, but Monty was patient. And they worked through things together. Because they loved each other. 

Senior year they moved in together, sharing an apartment with Raven and Clarke. They adopted a cat. They went grocery shopping together. They were that annoying old couple that was destined for a lifetime together.

And then Monty left. And Miller let him go. Because that’s what you did when you loved someone. 

“Do you still love me?” Monty asks. 

The question is whispered into the air and dissolves like mist, wrapping around the both of them. Five words that mean so much that it aches. The question Monty’s been avoiding asking since he walked in the room. The question Miller had wanted to ask in the days after their breakup, in text messages that he couldn’t bear to send. 

“Do I still love you?” Miller echoes. He wants to say no. God, he wants to say no. It’s been years for Christ’s sake, it doesn’t make any sense for him to still love Monty. But looking at the man in front of him, looking at Monty, there’s really only one answer. “I never stopped.” 

Monty closes the distance between them in an instant. Miller’s clipboard clatters to the floor as his hands fumble to bring Monty closer, to hold onto the boy that he let go and try and salvage all the brokenness between the two of them. Their lips meet but it isn’t a good kiss, it’s a little too hard and a little awkward. But they find their balance again just like they always had and it becomes slow, tender, desperate. 

“We–we should…” Monty breathes out words that are supposed to be coherent between them but kissing is more important, it seems. “Talk,” he figures out. “We should talk.”

And Miller’s nodding, their noses brushing as his hands cup the sides of Monty’s face. “Yeah, yes, we should.” And they pull apart, maybe to talk, multiple times, but always end up kissing again. 

It feels like something Miller’s not allowed to have, like magic has latched onto the two of them and is grounding them to the spot. It’s exactly like Miller remembers, kissing Monty, but it’s so much more than that too. Monty’s a different person now, and so is Miller, which is why they need to talk but also why this kiss is just _so much_. 

Miller isn’t sure how much time passes before they eventually break apart, their foreheads pinned together as they catch their breath. They’re quiet for a few beats as they gaze into one another’s eyes. It’s like nothing has changed. It’s like all those years ago when they thought they’d last forever. 

“I have to finish closing up,” Miller murmurs. Monty dips his chin forward to steal a soft kiss, leaving Miller breathless once more. “But. After.”

“Yeah.” Monty kisses him again and it still feels impossible, like this is impossible. “You still live on 9th?” he asks, and Miller nods. Monty kisses him again. “How about I pick up some food? Italian. And meet you there?” Miller nods, and Monty kisses him again. Monty keeps kissing him. “And then we can–we can talk.” More surely after another moment of silence, “We have to talk.”

And they do.

* * *

After Monty finally leaves Miller finishes his rounds a bit slower than usual. His heart is racing. He’s half terrified, half unstoppable. He manages to dial Bellamy despite not remembering getting out his phone. 

“You didn’t tell me Monty was home.” 

He listens as Bellamy sighs, as his friend shifts the phone closer to his ear. “I debated about it,” he says. “I figured it would be easier to not tell you. He’s leaving in a few days anyway.” 

 _He’s leaving in a few days_. 

Miller tries to fight off the way his heart feels heavy in his chest. He doesn’t have the right to feel like this anymore. He lost the right years ago when Monty left in the first place. 

“You should’ve told me,” Miller says. He hangs up before Bellamy can respond.

* * *

Monty’s waiting for Miller when he shows up and one look at him has Miller’s heart pounding in his chest again. He licks his lips, unthinking, and watches as Monty’s mouth curves into a shy smile. 

“I’ll pay for my half,” Miller says, leading the way to his apartment.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Monty returns. They take the stairs, considering there’s no elevator, and it feels vastly familiar. So familiar that it aches. “Kinda sad that Ginny won’t be here,” Monty says, referencing the cat they adopted together a while back. 

“She’s at Bellamy’s,” Miller murmurs. “I couldn’t…” he trails off, the words getting lodged in his throat. He distracts himself with unlocking his apartment door. Monty shuffles awkwardly beside him. “Something to drink?” Miller asks. “Water? Wine?”

“Wine?” Monty echoes with a smile. “Only if you’ll have some too.” Monty kicks his shoes off at the door like he used to before taking in the apartment. “You’ve rearranged.”

“Been here a while,” Miller calls from the kitchen.

“It’s still an incredibly Nathan Miller apartment,” Monty calls back, and Miller can hear the smile in his voice. “Books and mugs scattered everywhere, nothing hung on the walls, smells faintly like pine.”

Miller snorts. “What?”

“Your aftershave,” Monty answers breezily. He follows Miller into the kitchen where Miller digs out a bottle of wine from one of his cabinets. He watches in silence as Miller finds his corkscrew and pops the bottle open before pouring them both a glass. Monty accepts it, that small smile still on his face, and he nods in a soft acknowledgement of cheers before taking a sip. “Thanks,” he says. 

Miller’s going to need more wine. “Food?” They end up back in the dining room, Miller hurrying to shove old letters and half-read paperbacks and dirty mugs out of the way so they have a place to sit. “So you’re home for a few days,” Miller says as he makes quick work of their area while Monty starts pulling out small paper boxes of food. “Any particular reason?”

“Yeah,” Monty answers. But he doesn’t elaborate. And Miller doesn’t push. “You ever think about leaving?” he asks.

Miller looks up from where he’s piled up some books. “No,” he says. “My family’s here.”

Miller knows that Monty understands he isn’t talking about David. Papa Miller lives about an hour north of where he currently is. Miller means his friends. Bellamy, Raven, Clarke. 

Monty twirls his pasta with his fork. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “So, um. You’re still at the museum.”

“In charge of security now,” Miller says. “So not exactly the same.” Monty’s eyes dart around the room before he takes a bite. “Just because you’re a big fan of change doesn’t mean we all are,” Miller murmurs.

“That’s not–” Monty stops to swallow his bite. “I wasn’t thinking like that. It just feels familiar, is all.” Miller’s eyes drop to their food before Monty adds, “I miss it.” 

They spend dinner catching up. Miller knows of things that’ve happened in Monty’s life through Jasper and Bellamy (and Facebook) and it seems to be the same for Monty. One of them will mention an event (a promotion, a friend, a story) and the other will realize they already know it.

It’s been three years since they’ve seen each other, but they’ve always been part of one another’s lives. Watching from afar. 

When they’ve finished their dinners they clean up together, Monty taking the trash and Miller taking the cups to the sink in the kitchen. It _does_  feel familiar, and Miller aches for it. He’s known that he’s missed Monty, but having this brief whatever this is back for even one night reminds him at full force. 

The floorboards creak and Miller turns, finding Monty in the doorway with a tiny smile on his face. 

“I really missed you,” Monty whispers. Miller looks back at the sink. “If I’d known that you came after me, I…” 

“I tried calling,” Miller says, his voice hoarse. 

“I know,” Monty answers. “I know, but I…” he shakes his head and Miller looks back to him. “It hurt,” Monty croaks.

“I know.” Miller steps toward him slowly. “We’re different people, now.” 

“Yeah,” Monty agrees. 

“We don’t know each other anymore,” Miller says.

Monty shakes his head. “You know that’s not true,” he murmurs. He reaches out, hands latching onto Miller’s shirt to pull him closer. “There’re some people you’ll _always_  know,” he whispers. “And Nate, I _know_  you. And you _know_ me.” Miller lets his eyes fall shut. “All changes in who we are, our growth, our struggle, we’re still _us_.” 

Miller’s words get caught in his throat. _I love you_ , he wants to say. _I never stopped, I don’t know if I ever will_. 

All that comes out is, “Yeah.” He blinks hard. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” Miller murmurs. 

Monty smiles and tips his chin back. “Show me,” he whispers. Before Monty can close the distance Miller’s already leaning away. “Nate.”

“You’re going to leave again.” 

Monty’s smile slips. “But I’m coming back,” he tells him. Miller’s eyebrows pull together. Monty drops one of his hands from Miller’s shirt so he can cup Miller’s cheek. “My program’s finished,” Monty says. “I’m here looking for apartments. I…” he trails off softly as Miller tries not to get his hopes up too much. “Even if Bellamy hadn’t said that you came after me I’d still… I still want you in my life, Nate. I was going to reach out.” 

Miller leans into Monty’s hand. His voice shakes as he asks, “You’re coming home?” 

“I’m coming home,” Monty confirms. Miller leans in, his nose brushing Monty’s. 

There’s still an argument deep in Miller’s chest. “It’s too fast,” he rasps. 

Monty leans forward slightly, their lips so close that Miller can feel his breath. “Is it?” Monty challenges. 

Miller wants this so desperately. He knows that the answer is yes. That this is too fast. That this is improbable and could be messy and is going to be hard. He knows their friends will judge them, he knows he and Monty will have to get to know each other again. _But he wants this_.

He leans in and kisses Monty and the way Monty sighs into his mouth is enough to wipe away every worry that Miller’s ever thought in his life. He frames Monty’s face with his hands and kisses him better than he had when the were in the museum. This is a kiss tender and slow, a kiss that has Miller’s tongue easing into Monty’s mouth, a kiss that has Monty gripping Miller’s hips and tugging him closer. 

“Missed this so much,” Monty breathes between them. “Missed _you_.” 

Miller tugs Monty closer before pushing back firmly, toward the hallway, toward his bedroom.

By the time they make it to Miller’s bed their kisses have turned sloppy and frantic. It’s been so long since Miller had been with anyone and the fact that this was Monty, that Monty was back, that Monty wanted this _too_  was making his skin feel like it had been set on fire. 

He pins Monty to the mattress, his hips over Monty’s, swallowing his groans when Monty twirls a little. There’s more kissing, and Monty’s shirt is gone, and more kissing, and Miller’s shirt is gone, and more kissing. Hearing Monty say Miller’s name, as a sigh, as a groan, as a plea, has Miller melting into the fabric with no desire to ever do anything else. 

* * *

Miller isn’t even sure that it counts as kissing anymore, but he doesn’t care. He can’t stop. There’s nothing that could get him to move that inch away from Monty so they can carry on a normal conversation. He wants to feel Monty’s mouth against his own no matter the topic. 

“I never want to leave this bed,” Monty says. It’s a whisper into the small space between them and Miller wants to tuck it away and keep it forever. Their hands are sure and firm on one another’s shoulders, on their sides, on their backs. Monty hasn’t pulled away yet either and everything is warm. 

“You don’t have to,” Miller murmurs back. And okay, maybe there _is_  some kissing still happening. Monty slipping his tongue into Miller’s mouth for something quick, something wonderful. 

They slept for a bit but Miller woke in a rush, wondering if maybe this had all been a dream, only to find Monty still in bed beside him. Monty had woken up when Miller did, and from there they curled back into each other. 

“I mean I have to eventually,” Monty says with a smile. Miller sucks Monty’s lower lip into his mouth and revels in the way Monty’s breath catches. “God,” Monty’s long fingers reach out, brushing lightly over Miller’s cheeks. “I think I’m dreaming.” Miller shakes his head, his nose bumping Monty’s, and Monty’s smile grows tenfold. “I thought,” Monty says, “when you ended things. That we would never–that this would _never_ be possible again.” 

Miller steals another kiss. He’s never been one for words, no matter how full his heart is for Monty, and he isn’t sure how to say it now. That he regret what happened between them the moment Monty was out the door. That he wishes he would’ve tried. That if he’d had more money he would’ve flown out to California himself. That the heartache that followed him around for months still touched him now and then. 

Instead he says, “I love you.” 

Monty’s eyes glisten and Miller kisses him again. “Sleep,” Monty whispers. “I’ll be here in the morning.”

* * *

They’re still tangled together when they wake a second time. The feeling of Monty’s bare back against Miller’s bare chest is so warm, so familiar, that Miller can’t stop from pressing gentle kisses to Monty’s shoulder. Monty stirs, hums a little, and Miller falls back into his pillows with a breathy laugh. 

Monty rolls to face him, blinking in the morning light that streams through the window, and smiles like being in bed with Miller is the best thing that has ever happened to him.

Without words Monty leans in and presses a warm kiss to Miller’s chest before leaning against him completely, wrapping his arm around Miller’s waist.

“Coffee?” Miller whispers.

“Not yet,” Monty whispers back. “Let’s stay like this a while.” 

There aren’t any words. The just look at each other for a long time, re-memorizing the features on one another’s face. 

“They’re going to kill us,” Miller says, referencing their friends. Monty’s smile blooms and he nods in agreement. “Think we’re being stupid.”

“We are being stupid,” Monty responds. “That’s what you do when you’re in love.” Miller snatches a kiss without thinking and Monty’s smile is still too bright for this cozy morning. “I mean of course it’s going to be weird, and hard at times,” Monty carries on softly. “But I’m going to fight for you. And I know you’re gonna fight for me.” 

Miller kisses him again. He never wants to stop kissing him. 

“Where do we go from here, then?” Miller asks. 

Monty thinks for a moment, his eyes somewhere else, his smile still content and sure. “When I come back…” Monty trails off. And he pulls away. He pops their bubble of security and warmth and drops backwards onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling with certain hesitation on his face. Miller’s heart starts racing in his chest. “When I come back,” Monty starts again, “I really want to do this, Nate.” 

“Me too.”

“No, I…” Monty sighs. Miller reaches over, desperate for that contact again, and tips Monty’s chin up with his fingers to try and get Monty to look at him. “I mean really.”

“Me too,” Miller says another time. But Monty’s still not looking at him. Miller gives up on tipping his chin and instead slides his hand to cradle Monty’s cheek. “Monty.”

Finally Monty’s eyes meet his, but only for a second before he’s looking away again. “I mean I want to think long term,” he says. And it’s soft. Because he’s nervous. 

The fact that Monty is nervous, though, is somewhat comforting. Because that means what’s happening now is really real, is truly important to Monty. That this wasn’t some weekend thing before he went back to California, some trip down memory lane. This moment now in bed is about rebuilding bridges, about growing together. 

Miller’s heart is blooming in his chest. “I want that too,” he tells him, but this isn’t getting through to Monty. His eyebrows are still furrowed, nerves still drawn across his face. 

“I mean, like, _long term_. Like kids.” 

 _Kids_. 

Monty wants kids. Monty wants kids with Miller. 

“Yeah,” Miller rasps. His voice is surprisingly thick. That gets Monty to look up immediately. “Yeah, yes, Monty, I want that.” 

That worry that was there a moment ago vanishes from Monty’s face at once. “Yeah?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Miller stresses. 

Monty lights up with a smile. “But I mean–”

And then fuck it, Miller’s kissing him again. Monty doesn’t understand. “I want everything with you,” Miller breathes against Monty’s lips. _Everything_. “Kids and a house.” More kissing. “Duplicate copies of all the books and video games we have.” More kissing. “ _Everything_.”

Waking up on lazy mornings and sharing cups of coffee. Late nights on the balcony watching the town. Together, together, just being together. They spent years apart and Miller can’t bear to think it’ll happen again, won’t dare to think it. Monty’s smiling so widely that their kisses become more difficult and finally Miller pulls back. 

“Really?” Monty whispers.

“Ending things,” Miller says back, “was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.” He holds Monty close, desperate for his man to understand him. “I have been in love with you for so long, Monty. Even–even with you gone, part of me still hoped–part of me still saw a future with you. And you–you telling me you want this, that you want kids.” Miller presses his lips toward the corner of Monty’s mouth. “ _I love you_.” 

Monty lets out a breathy laugh. “Wow.” He leans in to Miller and kisses him firmly. “ _Wow.”_ Monty swings his leg over Miller’s hips and presses Miller down into the mattress, leaning over him with his entire body, kissing him deeply. “Really?” he asks again, softer than before. 

Miller sinks into the pillows and nods, and Monty chases him for another kiss.

* * *

When Bellamy walks into lunch to meet Miller, Monty can’t help but laugh at the surprise when he sees Monty too. Bellamy hesitates, looking nervous and confused, before he finally joins the two of them at their table. 

“Well,” Bellamy says as he sits. “This is… unexpected.” 

Miller manages an awkward smile. “Yeah.” Bellamy sits, his eyes darting between his two friends, before Miller says, “Monty’s coming home.”

Bellamy’s eyebrows lift. “Oh.” He looks to Monty. “I thought you were just in town for a few days.” 

“Looking for apartments,” Monty answers. “I found one.”

“Yeah?”

“With me,” Miller fills in. Bellamy’s eyes shift again. “Monty’s moving in with me,” Miller says. Bellamy waits in the silence for an elaboration, and Monty wants to just burst with the news. But Miller and Bellamy are closer, and it’s news that should come from him. “We’re together,” Miller says.

The smile the breaks out on Bellamy’s face is a welcome surprise. “Yeah?” he asks. He pops his shoulder into a shrug. “Okay.”

Monty looks to his boyfriend before asking, “You don’t think we’re being stupid?”

“Oh, I definitely do,” Bellamy says with a grin. “But if you two are happy then I’m all for it. I know how you both feel about each other. It just makes sense.” Monty smiles in relief and Miller lets out a short breath. Monty reaches out under the table, his hand searching for Miller’s, before he laces their fingers together and squeezes once. “I’m sure you’ve had the conversation,” Bellamy says. “About how it’s going to be different than before.”

“Mm-hm,” Monty hums. 

“Well, there you go,” Bellamy says. “You’re both smart guys. Some of my best friends. I trust you to make your own decisions.” As if knowing he’s the test to see how the rest of their friends will react, Bellamy adds, “I’m sure everyone else will think so, too.”

* * *

“I was right here,” Miller says.

Monty wraps his arms tighter around this man and rests his forehead against Miller’s chest. The airport around them is humming with life and activity, people over the loudspeakers, people hustling and bustling to find their plane. But this moment is for them, just them, and Monty closes his eyes. 

“I can’t believe I didn’t know,” Monty whispers back.

“I was right here,” Miller says again, holding him tighter. “I heard it over the speakers. That your plane was taking off.” He lets out a rueful laugh and shakes his head. “It felt like everything inside of me shattered.”

“Stop,” Monty pleads. Because he remembers, too. Sitting on that plane, his eyes out the window, wishing he had fought harder for them. The ache that was inside of him then comes back now and he lets out a short breath. Miller dips in a way that he can press his lips to Monty’s forehead. “I’ll call you the second I land,” he says. “I swear it.”

“I know,” Miller returns. And that blind trust, even after all this time apart, even after they broke each other years ago, makes Monty’s heart burst. Miller pulls back enough so he can cup Monty’s cheeks. Monty’s eyes are wet as he looks at Miller. “I love you,” he says. Plain as day. And Monty’s heart bursts again. “So much.” 

“I hate leaving,” Monty whispers back. He tries to nuzzle into Miller’s hands, to savor the feel of them to get him through these next few weeks back in California alone. “I want to stay.”

“You are staying,” Miller reminds him. “And this time, you’re going to land. And you’re going to call me, and I’m going to pick up. And you’re going to tell me all about what it’s like there.” Monty nods weakly and Miller leans in. “And then you’re going to come home,” Miller whispers against his lips. 

Monty smiles. “To you.” Miller kisses him firmly then. “I love you,” Monty tells him. Monty kisses him again and it’s unbelievable that he’s allowed to have this. That he and Miller were able to find each other. “The second I land,” Monty says, “I’m calling you.”

“Okay.” Miller’s smiling too, and Monty isn’t sure the last time he felt this happy.

* * *

When Monty arrives back home a few weeks later, Miller and all of their friends are waiting for him.

He greets Jasper first (childhood best friends tend to get upset when they’re not high up on the list) before slowly making his way down the line. Miller’s last, and he pulls Monty into his arms without any hesitation. 

Monty sighs in relief. Here in Miller’s arms, it’s like he can breathe again. “I missed you,” Miller whispers, nipping gently at Monty’s ear. “Ready to go home?” 

“Ready,” Monty answers. 


	39. weekly get togethers

“Bullshit.”

“No, I swear.”

“I’m calling bullshit, Green! You did _not_  see Jaha show up at Reyes’s with fucking flowers.” Monty hummed, lifting his glass of wine with a knowing smile as Miller gaped at him from the other end of the couch. “That gives us two things,” Miller said. “First of all, Jaha’s a fucking sap. But second of all, he made a _move_.”

“Mm-hm,” Monty agreed. “About time, right?”

Miller laughed before tipping his glass back, finishing off his second glass of wine. They’d been doing this for a while. It didn’t _start_  like this, really and truly, but somehow Miller and Monty had gotten in the habit of, well, gossiping. 

First Monty had just come by asking to borrow some sugar for his coffee (he could not and _would not_  drink it without an absurd amount of cream and sugar) when Miller offhandedly asked Monty what was going on with him and Harper.

“She’s trying to make Monroe jealous,” Monty said, accepting the container of sugar. “Her neighbor across the hall. She figures if I come over enough then maybe Monroe will be forced to make a move.”

Miller laughed. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Monty said. He thanked Miller for the sugar before disappearing for the morning.

But the following week Miller accidentally locked himself out of his apartment and Monty found him in the hallway, banging his head against the door. He offered Miller a place on his couch until the landlord came, and the gossiping started up again.

“Clarke’s been picking up Bellamy’s mail,” Monty said, pouring Miller a glass of wine. It was early evening, the sun had already set, and they had nothing better to do. Miller arched an eyebrow. “Know anything about that?” 

“I know Bellamy’s waiting on a pretty important job offer,” Miller said. “So, it’s pretty interesting he’s letting Griffin pick it up instead of doing it himself.”

They sort of just, fell in the habit of it.

The two of them kept tabs on their neighbors every week. Miller would see something interesting and pull out his phone, keeping a note of it until Tuesday night. Monty would do the same, though he was often more excited in his news and ended up texting Miller straight away.

They caught up, of course. It wasn’t just gossip session after gossip session. But it wasn’t a Tuesday night without drinking a bottle of wine and laughing at the transparency of their friends and neighbors. 

“So if Jaha and Reyes are dating,” Miller said, back in Monty’s apartment, still reeling from the news and still not sure if he believed Monty’s story, “that means that Roan guy from upstairs is gonna be pissed.”

“Wick from the 2nd floor, too,” Monty said. “But Wells is better than all of them.”

“You’re biased because you’re friends with him.”

Monty grinned, “So are you.” Miller shrugged in agreement. “Okay. So Wells and Raven. We’ve got to do something to nudge Clarke and Bellamy.”

Miller snorted. “You could literally, personally tell each of them that the other was interested, and neither would believe you. Or if they did, they wouldn’t do anything about it.” Miller reached for the bottle to pour himself another glass. “Either they figure it out on their own or they don’t. No amount of meddling is going to do it for them.”

“Sad,” Monty said with a sigh. Miller passed him the bottle and Monty filled up his glass too. “They’d be good together.”

“Yeah,” Miller agreed. “They would.”

* * *

“That’s the third time this week Octavia’s gotten in late,” Monty said. “Anything from Bellamy?”

Another few weeks have passed an weekly sessions like this are still happening. They’ve been tracking their neighbors as subtly as they can. 

“I’m going over tomorrow,” Miller said. “I’ll see what I can pick up.” Monty nodded thoughtfully. “What about Jasper?” Miller asked. “He’s been acting weird.”

“What? No he hasn’t.”

“He has,” Miller insisted. “Whenever I see him in the halls he gets twitchy.” Miller narrowed his eyes. “Did you tell him we’re gossiping without him?”

Monty fakes a gasp. “How dare you! It’s not real gossip if _Jasper_  knows it.” 

Miller’s eyes narrowed further. “Sure…”

“I can’t believe you don’t trust me!” Monty yanked a pillow off the couch and tossed it in Miller’s direction. “I told you about _Murphy’s rash!”_

Miller shuddered, knocking the pillow out of the way. “Fine.”

Monty frowned at him still, his arms bitterly crossed over his chest. “What,” he said. “Have you told Bellamy?” 

Miller rolled his eyes. “‘Hey Bellamy,” Miller mimicked, “Monty and I get together every Tuesday night to conspire about everyone in this building’s lives. You’re not invited.’” Miller shook his head. “Yeah, that would go great.”

“Exactly,” Monty said, referencing back to Jasper. “This is our thing.”

 _Our thing_.

* * *

Miller sunk onto Bellamy’s couch, a beer in one hand and a Wii controller in the other, while Bellamy set up Mario Kart. “So,” he started casually. “No Octavia tonight?”

Bellamy looked over his shoulder at his friend. “Nah, I think she’s out with Lincoln again.”

“The building security guard?” he asked.

Bellamy nodded, a hesitant smile coming to his face. “He’s been teaching her to kickbox.” 

“Interesting.”

“Mm-hm.” After getting everything set up Bellamy joined Miller on the couch. “So,” Bellamy started, just as casually as Miller had. He browsed the menu to pick out a map for them to race. “What’s going on with you and Monty?”

It was a good think Miller had just set down his beer, because if not he might’ve dropped it. “What do you mean?”

“Hm?” Bellamy looked over at him. “What do you mean what do I mean?”

“That’s a random question,” Miller said.

“Untrue. You’re always with him.”

“I’m alway–no I’m not!” Bellamy rolled his eyes and Miller sat up, affronted, trying to get ready for the race. “We’re just friends,” Miller said. “We’re not–”

“Dating?” Bellamy asked.

Miller scoffed. “Unlikely.”

“Well, sorry, but that’s the only logical explanation I’ve come up with that you two have a date night.”

Miller pressed the pause button the game and turned to his friend. “Elaborate,” Miller demanded.

Bellamy shrugged. “Every Tuesday night one of you goes to the other’s apartment,” he said. “You really think we wouldn’t notice?” 

Miller struggled to figure out how to answer. Somehow his brain got caught on the word, “We?” 

Bellamy reached out to the coffee table where his phone was sitting. After a bit of clicking and going through stuff he tossed his phone in Miller’s direction and then reached for his beer while Miller scrolled through the messages.

**From Raven  
nope nope nope   
I am not lying this  
is not a lie I just   
witnessed it AGAIN**

**From Clarke  
Maybe they’re teaching  
each other how to, like  
sew, or something?**

**From Jasper  
YEAH RIGHT MONTY  
DOESN’T SEW **

**From Bellamy  
Miller might.**

**From Wells  
Aw, leave them alone.**

**From Raven  
pshhhhh yeah right  
like I’m going to do   
THAT. **

**–**

**From Bellamy  
Alright, Miller was  
definitely tipsy  
when he left Monty’s  
apartment. **

**From Jasper  
IMPORTANT: any  
sign of hickeys**

**From Harper  
Why is that   
IMPORTANT in all  
caps, Jasper???**

**From Jasper  
MONTY’S A NECK  
GUY**

**From Octavia  
i really gotta figure  
out a way to get out  
of this group chat **

**–**

**From Clarke  
Spotted: Monty and   
Miller lingering by the   
elevator laughing   
together. Tried to take  
a pic and they noticed.  
Awkward.**

**From Bellamy  
Why are you like this.**

**–**

**From Raven  
bruh   
**

**From Wells  
Oh no.**

**From Raven  
you won’t believe  
what I just saw**

**From Jasper  
HICKEYS**

**From Harper  
let it die, Jasp.**

**From Clarke  
Waiting!**

**From Raven  
MONTY JUST LEFT  
MILLER’S which, like  
is usual for Tuesdays,   
right, okay, but then he  
TURNED AROUND and   
lingered like he was   
going to KNOCK AGAIN  
and looked so wistful and  
was smiling and I could  
write a damn romance  
novel about these two  
idiots if they’re not dating  
I’m going to shove my   
boot up their asses**

**From Bellamy  
One boot for two asses?   
Truly incredible. **

**From Clarke  
Jasper why don’t you  
just ask Monty what’s  
going on?**

**From Octavia  
yeah right, jasper’s  
a total spaz, he would  
spill everything **

**From Wells  
What, like we’re spying  
on our neighbors and  
hoping they get   
together?**

**From Octavia  
exactly**

**–**

**From Wells  
Oh, shit. I just  
realized something.**

**From Raven  
yes, babe, join the dark  
side and share what  
you know.**

**From Wells  
Monty doesn’t call  
him Miller.**

**From Bellamy  
Oh shit.**

**From Clarke  
OMG you’re right!**

**From Wells  
Monty calls him  
Nate. God, they’re  
totally dating.**

**–**

**From Octavia  
does miller lick  
his lips a lot or is  
that just something   
he does when he  
sees monty, asking  
for a friend**

**From Jasper  
good LORD**

**From Clarke  
For real though! He does  
that all the time when  
Monty’s around. He also  
lights up like the sun!  
When’s the last time  
any of you saw   
Miller smile when Monty  
wasn’t involved?**

**From Bellamy  
Nope. That’s not a   
thing Miller does. He does  
not smile unless Monty  
is involved. **

**From Jasper  
GOOD LORD!!!! **

Miller read the texts quickly, annoyed both at the fact that their friends had a group chat _without them_ but also because they were doing the same exact thing that he and Monty had been doing _about them_. 

“We’re not dating,” Miller said, hoping his face wasn’t red. 

“Waiting for another explanation for date night, then,” Bellamy said, accepting his phone back. 

Miller shook his head. He hadn’t had much to drink but his tongue was still heavy in his mouth. “We just–catch up,” he said.

“Every single Tuesday?” Bellamy asked. Miller blinked hard, trying to sort out his mind. “You like him?”

“I don’t know,” Miller said. But that was a lie. He craved Tuesday night’s with Monty, and not because he was a gossip, but because he got to spend that time _with Monty_. “I don’t know,” he said again. 

* * *

It was routine, now, Monty leaving his door unlocked for Miller to enter his apartment. Today was different. Miller entered and paused, leaning back against Monty’s door with a heavy feeling in his chest.

“Nate?” Monty poked his head out of the kitchen with a smile. “Hey! You’re late.”

“Sorry,” Miller said. He pushed himself off the door. “Wine?”

Monty’s smile grew into a grin as he pulled his arm into view, a glass of wine waiting for Miller. “Please tell me you have information.”

It was a typical Tuesday night in the sense that they settled down on the couch, caught up, and then shared information. Monty gasped in surprise when Miller mentioned Lincoln and murmured something about not figuring it out first, but by then Miller had finished three glasses of wine and was gnawing on the inside of his cheek.

“What are we doing?” Miller asked. 

Monty frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“We do this every week,” Miller said. “Why?”

“Why?” Monty echoed, still frowning. “It’s fun.”

“ _Monty_.” 

Monty searched Miller’s eyes before saying, “I like spending time with you.” He shrugged before adding, “If this is how I get to do it, then this is how I’m going to do it.” 

Miller lowered his glass of wine to the table before turning to Monty again. “What if we did something else?” he asked.

“Like what?”

“Like went to that place on the corner of 9th,” Miller said. “And split the bill.” 

Monty hesitated, but there was something hopeful in his eyes. “Like a date?”

“Like a date,” Miller confirmed. 

Monty let out a breathy laugh before a smile claimed his face. He looked down at his hands, shaking his head more in disbelief than anything else. “Yeah, that would be–yeah. We should do that.” 

Miller practically crawled across the couch to close the distance between them. He reached out, carefully cradling Monty’s face between his hands. 

“Can I…?” Miller asked.

Monty nodded into the kiss. Their lips met in the middle as they shared a sigh. Monty tasted like wine and his lips were warm and he smiled against Miller’s mouth. 

“They do what we do,” Miller exhaled between them.

“What?”

“They’re–gossiping about us,” Miller murmured. 

Monty pulled back, giving Miller a moment to lick his lips, to taste Monty again. “They are? Who’s they?”

“All of them,” Miller said, tipping Monty’s chin back to steal another kiss. “They have a fucking group chat.” 

Monty scoffed and laughed at the same before Miller pulled him back in for a kiss. Monty was more forceful this time, though. While Miller’s hands were on Monty’s cheeks, Monty’s were on Miller’s shoulders. He pushed until Miller had his back on the couch and Monty had their hips lined up.

When Monty shifted forward, Miller groaned into his mouth.

“We can scold them,” Monty said, pulling away to press a kiss to Miller’s jaw, “about the dangers of gossiping,” he continued, traveling closer to Miller’s neck, “later.”

Monty sucked hard on Miller’s throat and Miller groaned again, closing his eyes to savor the feel of it. “Agreed,” he rasped.

* * *

“Just stay the night,” Miller murmured into Monty’s shoulder. They were curled up in Miller’s bed after one too many glasses of wine a few nights later, both sleepy from the long day and just wanting to be in the same room as one another. “I’ve got clothes you can wear and everything.”

“Or, like, no clothes,” Monty suggested, rolling so he could face Miller. 

Miller laughed. “I like the way you think.” 

“I just–” Monty caught Miller’s cheek. “I need to get my toothbrush,” he said. Miller rolled his eyes but smiled anyway, twisting to press a kiss to Monty’s wrist. “My breath’ll be all gross in the morning if I don’t brush my teeth,” he said. “And I want to make out with you when I wake up.”

Miller laughed again. “Okay. Fine.” They shared another kiss. “Be quick.” After another kiss Monty flew out of bed, grinning, allowing Miller to sink into the pillows with a lazy smile on his face. It had only been a few moments before the door creaked, meaning Monty had left, and he heard a shriek. Miller sat up at once, already rushing out of bed. “Babe?” he called.

Miller paused about thirty feet away from his front door where Monty stood in the doorway, his hand over his mouth, and all of their friends in the hallway with their arms crossed over their chests. 

“Babe?” Jasper echoed from the hallway. “I knew it!” 

Miller frowned, striding toward them and waving his arms to shoo them away. “You’re all annoying,” he said.

“Hickeys and everything,” Jasper continued proudly, followed by a laugh from Raven and Harper. 

“ _Go_ ,” Miller said, waving his hands again. “Go!” 

“I can’t believe you lied to me,” Bellamy said, aghast.

“I didn’t,” Miller said pointedly. “Only person who’s lying here is you. To yourself. About your feelings for Clarke.” Clarke gapsed and Octavia snorted. “Or maybe Clarke. To herself. About her feelings for you.”

“Hey, now,” Wells said gently, though there was a smile on his face. “We’re happy for you two. No need to play dirty.”

“Well at least _someone_ said something,” Raven said in approval.

Miller started pulling Monty back inside, sure that he had an extra toothbrush or two under his sink that Monty could choose from. “Add us to your group chat,” Monty said as Miller started shutting the door. “Oh–and thanks!”

The door shut with a click and Monty leaned back against it while Miller stepped toward him, pinning him back against it. “They’re annoying.”

Monty kissed him deeply. “Incredibly. But without them being annoying we wouldn’t have this.”

Miller hummed into the next kiss, sliding his hands around Monty’s waist, up under his shirt, and grinning as Monty shuddered. 

“Let them gossip,” Miller whispered. “Let’s go back to bed.” 

“Yes, please.” 


	40. papers

Miller isn’t someone who likes to make big shows of affection. He has never been someone to be loud and proud about his love, to make gifts or gestures for everyone to see. That’s just not what he does. His love has always been quiet and soft. Fierce, but just for the person whom he loves. 

That person, however, is Monty. And Monty tends to _like_  big shows of affection. Which makes Miller’s inner struggle one that he’s constantly wrestling with. Does he go above and beyond to see Monty’s grin blooming on his face? Or does he keep his love to himself, keeping everything true. 

The big show of affection has seemed to win this time. 

First he spends a long time on Pinterest (even though he has _no fucking idea_  how to work that stupid-ass website), and then Google which seems to have more results. But generally, it’s a lot harder for Miller to figure out what he wants to do. But he got the call earlier today, spoke with the rep over the phone, and something needs to be done.

When he finds a site and makes an order, it takes another day or two for the package to arrive. And then he has to wrap it. And then he waits.

Monty comes home from work exhausted but happy, having figured out how to successful combat a new computer virus that’s been making its rounds. When he finds Miller sitting on the couch, a small package in his hand with blue wrapping paper, he arches an eyebrow.

“Special occasion?” Monty asks as he kicks off his shoes. “I miss an anniversary or something?”

“Not this time,” Miller says. It’s happened before. Monty’s scatterbrained sometimes. But that’s okay, he more than makes up for it. “Come sit.” Curious, Monty makes his way to the couch, lowering himself to the spot next to Miller. “I got you something,” he says.

“I can see that,” Monty counters. 

Miller hands it over carefully, and Monty tears into the paper. Miller’s heart is pounding in his chest. Soon, the t-shirt that he picked out online is in Monty’s hands. Only, it isn’t a t-shirt for Monty. It’s much smaller than that. 

The print reads: _I love my two dads_.

Monty whips up to look at him. “Nate?” he asks, his voice shaking. “Does this–” his voice cracks. “Our paper’s went through?”

“No, Monty,” Miller says, “I’m pregnant. Yes, of course our papers went through!” Monty throws the shirt aside and reaches out for his husband, hands firms against Miller’s cheeks as Monty pulls him in for a kiss. “Our application got approved,” Miller murmurs between their mouths. “We’re going to be parents.”

Monty’s smiling too much for it to be a real kiss and there’re tears in his eyes. He can’t pull away from Miller, small breathy laughs shared between them until Monty finally gives up and wraps his arms around Miller tightly, nuzzling into his neck. 

Miller thinks maybe this time, the show was worth it.


	41. christmas sex

Things had been going relatively well. At least, Monty _thought_  they were going relatively well. 

Miller (despite his lack of being excited about things, or expressing any sort of emotion really) really loved Christmas. It was evident in the way he actually pulled out special mugs from a brown box he kept in the crawlspace and how he had his tree up the day after Thanksgiving. So, Monty figured the best way to celebrate Christmas, was to be extra festive. He’d surprised Miller on Christmas Eve when he got home from work by pressing a stick-on bow to his chest. 

“Unwrap me?” Monty’d teased. Miller’s grin was worth the embarrassment that came from Monty struggling to tie himself up with ribbon. And Miller’s eyes were dark and the way he licked his lips was _seriously_ 10/10. So. Going well. Yes. 

It was silly, happy sex. At least it was meant to be. It was their first Christmas together and Monty wanted it to be _happy_. He didn’t want–

“Monty,” Miller pulled away from him sharply, his eyebrows drawn together. They hadn’t gotten very far, considering Miller had just lubed up, but. “Is it–uh. Supposed to burn?” 

And so that’s how they end up in the ER on Christmas Eve, Monty’s face so red he can’t even look in Miller’s direction. Miller’s sitting on the edge of a bed now, his eyebrows still drawn together as though he’s refusing to let himself show he’s in pain. 

“I’m sorry,” Monty gushes when the first nurse walks out of the room, leaving them alone. He drops his head into his hands and the sound of paper crinkling under Miller is loud in the quiet room. “I thought–I just wanted to have happy stupid sex.” 

“It’s okay,” Miller rasps, his voice thick with pain. Because his dick is _breaking out in hives_. “Really, Monty.” He shifts a little, trying not to put himself in more pain. “I mean–I’m not allergic to lube. Or peppermint. So it wasn’t a stretch to assume peppermint lube would cause. Well.”

“ _I’m sorry,”_ Monty says again. 

Miller clears his throat, his eyes darting toward the door, before looking back to Monty. “C’mere,” he says. Monty doesn’t move. “ _Baby._ Come here.” Monty lets out a long breath before forcing himself to his feet, crossing the small room to where Miller’s sitting. It clearly takes a lot of effort but he reaches out, cupping Monty’s cheek. “I love you,” he says. 

“Oh, _God_ ,” Monty groans, tipping himself outside of Miller’s grasp. “The guilt is palpable, Nate!” 

“Come here,” Miller says again, motioning Monty forward with his fingers and a small smile creeping onto his tense face. Monty steps toward him again. “I love you,” Miller says again. “Coming home to you wrapped a fucking present, Jesus Christ, Monty.” 

Monty lets out a short laugh, but guilt is still tight in his chest. “I ruined Christmas,” he says. 

Miller tugs him toward him enough to give him a kiss. “You kidding?” Miller asks. “Once they clear me all up, you and I are going to have the best fucking Christmas sex. Tomorrow. And with normal lube.” Monty tries not to whine. “Would I rather be in bed with you right now?” Miller asks, his voice tight as he shifts to make himself more comfortable again. “Obviously. But at least I’m still with you.” 

“God, you’re a sap,” Monty says, leaning in again. “I love you so much.” 

They part when the door opens and the doctor walks in. Monty takes the seat closer to Miller so he can hold his hand, rather than sitting across the room to stew in his guilt. “Don’t worry,” the doctor tells them. “This isn’t my first Christmas malfunction. We’ll get you out of here in a jiffy. Hopefully no more crazy Christmas stories after tonight.”

“I’m looking forward to more Christmas stories,” Miller admits before turning to wink at Monty. And Monty wants that too, though without the trips to the ER. A billion more Christmases with Miller, each better than the one before. He feels warm even thinking about it.

(The follow-up sex, while lacking peppermint lube, is the best Christmas sex either of them has ever had. Miller wears a Santa hat, and Monty laughs until Miller cuts him off–making him moan instead.) 


	42. clarke and miller

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bellarke also if that's not your thing

“Get your feet off the table.” 

Clarke reached out, shoving Miller’s feet from the coffee table with a frown, receiving a frown back in response.

“This is my apartment too,” he said. “If I want to put my feet on the coffee table,” Miller paused, swinging his boots back up into view, “then I damn well am going to put my feet on the coffee table.”

Clarke shoved them off again. “Coffee table came from side of the family,” she said.

“The couch came from mine,” he countered. “You want me to shove your ass off the cushion, or what?”

“Guys.” Wells, across the room, sounded panicked. “We managed to live together in peace for six months,” he said. “Can you not–I don’t know–self-destruct, now that I’m moving out?” 

They both leveled him with an even stare. 

Clarke, Wells, and Miller all moved in together after they graduated college. They’d been friends since they were young, considering their rich parents paid for them all to go to the same private school, had managed to survive undergrad together, and thought the next logical progression of life was living together.

The problem however was that the remained dysfunctional at best. Wells kept them balanced. But Wells was leaving. 

“You’re the one who decided to get engaged and leave us here alone together,” Clarke said pointedly. “If we end up strangling each other, it’ll be your fault.”

Miller scoffed. “Like you could get your tiny mutant hands around my neck,” he muttered.

“They’re not that tiny,” Clarke shot back.

Wells whined. “ _Guys_.” 

Miller waved his hand in Wells’ direction. “We’ll be fine,” he said. He sounded very sure, despite the fact that he was not. “Reyes is waiting for you to break in your new mattress, I’m sure. So–”

Wells smirked and Clarke rolled her eyes fondly. “You’re just moving across town,” Clarke added. She reached up, swinging her arm over Miller’s shoulder. “No worries here.”

Miller managed a smile. “Mm-hm.”

Wells sighed, but he looked happy. He was moving in with his fiancee. Things would turn out alright. “Okay. I’m leaving then.”

Miller arched an eyebrow. “You sure?”

“Really leaving,” Wells said.

“Then go,” Clarke insisted. 

“Bye now.”

“Bye,” they both echoed.

The door shut. Miller threw Clarke’s arm off of him with a scowl. It would take some time to adjust.

* * *

It wasn’t as though Clarke and Miller didn’t get along. They did. They even balanced each other out in a way that Wells couldn’t. Miller was incredibly tidy, whereas Clarke left her shit all over the room. Miller would leave lights on, and Clarke would flick them off. Neither of them liked to talk about their feelings, and instead would choose documentaries on Netflix to watch.

It worked.

But sometimes, like today, Miller’s best friend would come over and Clarke would find herself lingering in the doorway of whatever room they were in. 

She watched as Miller and Bellamy shared space on the couch, the two of them laughing and pushing each other out of the way as they played Mario Kart and attempting to knock each other off the map. She shifted on her feet, causing the floorboards to creak.

Bellamy whipped around, his face lighting up with a smile when he saw her. “Hey Clarke,” he said.

She smiled. “Bellamy,” she countered.

“You should join us,” he said.

“No she shouldn’t,” Miller added, looking over her shoulder. She frowned at him, and he arched his eyebrows. “On second thought,” he said suddenly, as if realizing something. “C’mon, Griffin. We’ve got Wells’ controller, still.” 

Miller scooted over on the couch, leaving a gap between himself and Bellamy, forcing Clarke to sit between the two men. She took the controller and they added another player so she could join them. 

“It’s weird here without Wells,” Bellamy said, attempting to start conversation. “How’ve you and Miller managed?” 

“Poorly,” Miller said.

“Wasn’t directed to you,” Bellamy said with a laugh. 

“Poorly,” Clarke echoed, causing him to laugh again. Bellamy had a nice laugh. Miller watched the two of them with narrowed eyes. “You still living with Octavia?”

“Until she moves in with Lincoln, yeah. But that might not be for a while.”

Miller hummed, his eyes back on the screen. Clarke knew that he was thinking. And though she hated to admit it, Miller was wicked smart. Which meant it was only a matter of time until he realized what was right in front of him.

“Well we have an open room,” Miller said breezily. Too breezily. And Clarke froze. “If it happens sooner rather than later, you know.”

Bellamy perked up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He elbowed Clarke. “How’d you like that, Princess?” Bellamy teased. “Getting to see my shining face every day.”

“No thank you.”

* * *

After Bellamy left that night, Miller kicked his feet up on the coffee table, and Clarke glared at him. There was something on his face that she didn’t like. It was in the way his mouth twitched into a smile, or in the mischief in his eyes.

“I’m going to bed,” Clarke said.

“When were you going to tell me?” Miller asked.

She wheeled back around to face him. “Tell you what?”

“ _Oh_ , so that’s how we’re going to do this?” 

Clarke stubbornly crossed her arms. “Do what?”

“I’m telling Wells.”

“Telling Wells _what_!” 

“Unless you already told him,” Miller carried on. “I mean you two were always closer. But a crush on Bellamy? Man, I don’t think you’ve told _anyone_.” Despite everything, Clarke’s face felt hot. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped.

“Sure. Night, Clarke.”

* * *

Miller was insufferable. Absolutely, seriously insufferable. 

 **From Miller**  
Wells, my man. Did  
you know that Clarke  
is seriously in love  
with Bellamy?

 **From Clarke**  
First of all, fuck you.  
Second of all, no  
I am not.

 **From Wells**  
Glad to see you’re both  
still getting along.

Clarke padded out of her room finding Miller in the living room with a book in his hands. He looked up with a pleasant smile on his face. “Good afternoon,” he said.

She held up her phone. “Stop spreading lies about me.”

Miller feigned shock. “How dare you? I’m a man of my word. I don’t spread _lies_.”

Clarke was seriously considering chucking her phone at him. “I don’t have a crush on Bellamy.” Okay, so maybe Clarke was the one lying, but whatever. How could Miller have figured it out during _one stupid fucking round_ of Mario Kart? She hated him. “So quit it.”

“Okay. Sure. My bad.” Miller closed his book calmly before moving it to the coffee table. “So you’re cool if he moves in?”

Clarke blinked hard. “What.”

“Well it’s been a few days,” Miller said. “He talked to Octavia. Definitely looking to be sooner than later.”

“ _What_.”

“So it’s cool? I mean we wouldn’t be paying as much in rent and he’s a great guy, that Bellamy.”

“We cannot have Bellamy Blake living in this apartment,” Clarke said sharply. She didn’t mean to sound so Goddamn _affected_. 

Miller smirked. “Why not? Afraid you’ll jump his bones?” She tossed a pillow at him that he ducked, and the laugh that escaped him was much too bright to belong to Miller. “Admit that you like him.” 

“No. Because I don’t!”

Miller reached out for the pillow and swung it back. “Imagine waking up,” he carried on, preparing to jump to his feet as Clarke scrambled to grab another pillow from the couch, “and walking into the kitchen to find a shirtless, freshly showered Bellamy Blake.”

Clarke chucked the other pillow at him. “You’re so fucking dramatic!” 

“You’d probably keel over on the spot,” he pressed. Another laugh bubbled out of him as he darted out of the way of another throw. “Then he’d be forced to give you CPR, being the good citizen that he is and all. Which–you know–leads to mouth-to-mouth.”

“I literally hate you,” Clarke said, swinging another pillow in his direction. But now she was smiling, and Miller was grinning, and the embarrassment of Miller knowing about Clarke’s stupid crush on his best friend didn’t seem to matter. “You’re going to wake up dead one of these days.”

“Mm–sorry, Griffin. Don’t think I’d be waking up if you killed me.” She huffed in frustration, still smiling, when there was a sudden knock on the door. “Oh, who could that be?” Miller asked, already darting for the door. “Is that by chance, the love of your life, Bellamy Bradbury Blake?”

“Miller!”

“Let’s find out!” He rushed, Clarke hot on his heels, to open the door. And then he froze. Every ounce of silliness and teasing dropped from his system in a nanosecond at the sight of the man on the other side of the door. “Monty,” Miller rasped. 

Monty smiled, his eyes darting back to Clarke who was standing behind Miller before retuning to the man who had answered his knock. “Am I interrupting?” Monty asked. “Clarke invited me over.”

“That I did,” Clarke said. She stuck her tongue out at Miller, only sort-of picking up on the way he shuffled awkwardly out of the way. (Miller wasn’t very good at social interaction, that wasn’t news, but this was something else.) “You’re not the only one allowed to have friends,” she teased. “C’mon in, Monty.” 

Miller moved out of the way completely, face uncharacteristically pale, before clearing his throat. “I, um. Work. I have work to do.”

“Sure,” Clarke waved at him as she and Monty passed. 

“See you around, Nate,” Monty said with a smile. 

The smile that blossomed on Miller’s face in response made Clarke pause. When Miller caught her looking, he spun on his heel and marched away without looking back.

* * *

“I can’t believe you like Monty.”

“Shut up.”

“I can’t _believe_ ,” Clarke stressed, “that you like _Monty_!”

“Shut up,” Miller grunted again. He dropped his head into his hands. Clarke could take teasing. Miller clearly could not. Also, he really was a man of his word. Not a liar. Which led to awkward, emotional admissions of feelings. “Just…” he trailed off, his voice thick. He looked more upset than angry. “Drop it. Okay?”

“Mm, no.” Miller looked up at her, his eyebrows furrowed and a look of sadness on his face. “For starters,” Clarke said, swinging her feet up on the coffee table. “If you can’t leave me alone, then I can’t leave you alone.”

“Thanks, Griffin, for confirming that you want to jump Bellamy’s bones.”

“And secondly,” she powered on ignoring his comment. “You totally have a chance. You’re a certified babe, and 100% Monty’s type.”

Miller snorted. “Certified babe?” he echoed.

“It’s the eyelashes,” Clarke said.

“Okay. Sure.” Miller paused. “Monty’s not into guys.”

“Monty’s just as gay as I am, which is to say, bisexual.” Clarke shrugged. “It’s why we’re such good friends. The bond of the bis.” Miller seemed reluctant to consider this. “You caught me,” Clarke said dramatically, opening her arms. “I’m trying to lull you into a false sense of security so I can ruin your life.” 

Miller rolled his eyes at her. “What are friends for, right?” He reached out, shoving her feet off the coffee table, and earned a grin. Miller still seemed hesitant. “I’m Monty’s type?”

“You’re so dramatic,” Clarke said with a laugh. 

* * *

Going to the bar was Wells’ idea, even though Wells wouldn’t be there, and Miller figured it would be good to actually hang out with Clarke rather than just sit in the dark and watch documentaries.

Before they even ordered, though, he turned to her. “If you keep your mouth shut about Monty,” he said, “then I’ll shut up about Bellamy.”

Clarke looked skeptical. “You’re not going to tell him?”

Miller snorted. “Bellamy wouldn’t believe me if I did. But what goes around comes around, and if I did then I know that you…” he trailed off. “Just–deal?”

Clarke reached out for a handshake. “Deal.” She shrugged. “I still think you have a chance though.”

“Yeah, you do too,” he said.

“With Bellamy?” she asked, her voice tight. “Whatever.” 

They didn’t talk about it.

Instead, they talked about work, they talked about life, and they bonded. By the end of the night when they walked home together, Miller swung his arm over Clarke’s shoulder. 

“We’re shitty people,” he said.

“Totally shitty,” she agreed. 

But at least they were smiling. 

* * *

After a long Friday at work, Miller returned home exhausted. He considered driving to Wells’ and having a drink with him and Reyes, but the tiredness won out and he found himself at his own apartment. Clarke was going out of town and Miller was ready to have the apartment to himself so he could walk around without pants on.

When he kicked the front door open something felt off, but he couldn’t figure out what. But then his eyes caught on a man on the couch. 

Monty waved at him. “Hey!” Miller paused in the doorway. His eyes shot to the left, then to the right, but he wasn’t sure why he was looking for Clarke if he knew she wouldn’t be here. “You okay?” Monty asked.

“You–um.”

Monty’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “My apartment’s being fumigated,” Monty told him. “Clarke said I could stay here?”

“Clarke’s out of town for a conference,” Miller found himself saying, which was the worst way possible to greet Monty.

“I–yeah, I know. I thought–she didn’t tell you?” 

“No.”

“Oh my God.” Monty stood quickly. “I’m so sorry–I thought she–I don’t want to be a burden.”

“No, no,” Miller shook his head and held out his hand as if to try and calm him. “It’s okay. I mean–we have a guest room and all. I was just kind of thrown off.” He shook his head another time, digging his phone out of his pocket. “You’re never a burden, Monty.” 

“I’ll keep to myself,” he swore, crossing his fingers over his chest in a way that made Miller smile.

“Really,” Miller said without looking up from his phone, shooting Clarke a quick text. “You don’t have to. I don’t mind the company.”

 **From Miller**  
How fucking dare  
you do this to me.

 **From Clarke**  
You’re welcome.

He looked up, finding Monty smiling at him. It was going to be a long weekend. 

 **From Miller**  
You’ve no idea what  
kind of monster you’ve  
just created. 

 **From Clarke**  
Oh man, I’m shaking  
in my boots. 

 **From Clarke**  
Not. 

Despite his exhaustion, a night in with Monty felt like something Miller could stay awake for. “You eat yet?” Miller asked. “I can call for take-out.” 

Monty grinned. “Sounds great.”

* * *

After eating Chinese on the couch while watching some cartoon on Netflix that Monty insisted was great, Miller found himself starting to doze off. He and Monty were close on the couch and Monty was warm and Miller was full and things were cozy. 

Still, Miller managed to sit up. He needed distance. “If you need anything,” he said to Monty as he stood. “Knock. Okay?”

“Sure, Nate.” 

“I mean it.” 

Miller collapsed into bed after stripping off his clothes and brushing his teeth and fell asleep trying to think of how to get back at Clarke. They had a _deal_. And, okay, maybe she hadn’t explicitly broken the handshake, but it was a close enough variant. And Miller was good at chess.

After a few hours he woke up thirsty. Half-asleep, Miller stumbled out to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water. He needed to start keeping a water bottle by his bed, or hydrate better throughout the day like Clarke insisted, but whatever. Only a few steps into the kitchen he startled, realizing someone else was there as well, and offered a weak and sleepy smile to Monty.

“You okay?” Miller asked, his voice thick. 

Monty popped his shoulders into a shrug. “Always hard for me to sleep in a new place,” he answered. “I’m okay though.” Miller fumbled through the cabinets for a cup and quickly filled it with tap water. “Bad dream?” he asked.

Miller turned to face Monty, drinking from his glass. “Just thirsty,” he answered.

Monty’s eyes lingered on Miller’s bare chest. “Uh-huh.” He licked his lips, and Miller arched an eyebrow. “I should–um. Sleep.” But Monty didn’t move, he just shook his head a little. “You ever, uh–sleep better when there’re other people around?” he asked.

If Miller wasn’t half-asleep, he would’ve reacted with silence. Instead, drowsy and happy, he asked, “You asking me to sleep with you, Green?”

“No!” Monty burst. His face was red. “No, um–of course not. No.” 

Miller finished his glass of water. “Trying to sleep with me, then?”

“Jesus, Nathan, of course not.”

“Shame.” Monty fell silent. Miller couldn’t get that tiny smile off his face. He’d regret it in the morning, definitely, but only if he remembered. “I’ll make us coffee in the morning,” Miller said as he started off to bed. 

* * *

When morning came, Monty was already brewing coffee. He smiled brightly at Miller as he entered the kitchen, his eyes dropping down to Miller who was wearing more clothes than the night before.

“Rude,” Miller said, leaning against a counter. “I was supposed to make the coffee.”

“I was awake first,” Monty said with a shrug. “You can make, like, eggs.”

“Mm. No. Toast? Maybe.” 

Monty laughed. “You can’t even make toast?”

“Debatable.” He flashed Monty a smile before reaching a cabinet and digging around for a pan. “I’m kidding. I’ll make pancakes, yeah? That work for you?” Monty nodded, hopping up to sit on one of the counters. “Clarke can’t cook to save her life,” Miller said. “I’ve had to learn to fill in for Wells.”

“You figure that Clarke would be good at cooking,” Monty said.

“Nope. Absolute shit. Runny eggs, too-sweet waffles.” He reached up to find some mix. “She tries. Fails, but tries.” That got another laugh out of Monty. 

It was easy, settling into this sort of routine with him. Monty was warm and easy to have conversations with and his coffee was absolutely perfect. By the time they settled down at the table to enjoy their breakfast, Miller was comfortable.

“So about last night,” Monty said. 

Miller arched an eyebrow. “What about it?” 

“Something about offering to sleep together, or something,” Monty said offhandedly. Miller’s dropped his fork, sitting up a touch straighter. “Or, maybe not offering,” Monty said. “But inquiring I guess would be a better word.”

“I vaguely know what you’re talking about.”

Monty smiled. “Half-asleep?” he guessed, and Miller nodded. “Okay. I’ll make it easier then. I’m free tonight. Want to go on a date?” Miller gaped at him, and Monty was still smiling. “I always felt weird about it when Clarke was around,” Monty carried on. “Asking, anyway. Because I was here for her, not to oogle you. But–yeah.”

“Oogle me?” Miller asked.

“You’re hard not to oogle.”

Miller grinned. “Okay. Yes.” 

“To the date?”

“Mm-hm.”

Monty grinned, too. “Perfect.”

* * *

 **From Miller**  
Fine. You win this  
round. 

 **From Clarke**  
I got Monty’s Snapchat  
and I am definitely  
not chanting ‘I told  
you so’ repeatedly  
in my head, but like I  
also totally am

 **From Miller**  
It’s cute that you   
think this is over.

Monty peeked up from where he was nestled in the pillows by Miller’s side, squinting at Miller’s bright phone but wearing a happy smile. “Everything okay?” he asked.

Miller stretched his arm out around Monty’s waist and tugged him closer. “Mm. Just Clarke,” he told him. Monty wiggled closer and pressed a kiss to Miller’s bare chest. “Did you tell her? About–this? Beforehand, I mean.”

Monty kissed his chest again. “Nope.” 

“She told me I’m your type.”

Monty laughed, and the sound of it was warm. Everything was so brilliantly warm. “Oh did she?” Monty asked. “What, completely out of my league?” Miller caught Monty’s chin and tugged him upwards for a kiss, reveling in Monty’s smile when they parted. “Wow, I am so happy Clarke said I could stay here this weekend.”

“Me too,” Miller murmured. He kissed him again. “Hey, I need your help with something.” 

Monty waited looking curious. “And that is…?”

* * *

When Clarke got home on Sunday evening, the apartment smelled heavenly. She had a weakness for carbs, and she knew the second that the door was open that Miller had blessed her with his cooking. Wells had been great, but Miller was a perfectionist when it came to food, and whatever was in the oven smelled delicious.

“Is this you thanking me for gracing your life with my presence and genius ideas?” Clarke asked, walking into the apartment. 

“Well I can handle your presence,” a voice responded that Absolutely Did Not belong to Nathan Miller answered. “But genius ideas?” Bellamy carried on. “I’d lean more toward sneaky. Getting Monty to stay here the same weekend you were gone.”

Clarke froze, looking at Bellamy in their kitchen. Bellamy was in their kitchen. And he looked nice. She carefully unwound her scarf from around her neck. 

“Where’s Miller?” she asked.

“He and Monty went to see the new Star Wars movie,” Bellamy answered. “Left maybe ten minutes ago?”

“And you’re here…?”

“Miller told me to say something like, ‘You’re welcome.’” Clarke’s face felt hot. She stubbornly held her ground though, holding Bellamy’s gaze. “I figured out they were planning something when Monty set the table for two after I’d already been invited,” Bellamy said. 

“Whatever Miller said,” Clarke started, but Bellamy held up his hand.

“Miller didn’t say anything,” he stopped her gently. “He did, however, leave a lasagna that smells delicious and a bottle of what I’m assuming is your favorite wine.” He gestured to the table that had two candles flickering on it. “So we might as well enjoy it, yeah?”

* * *

 **From Clarke**  
I hate you so much  
that I think I might   
love you

 **From Miller**  
Sorry, too busy  
making out with my  
boyfriend to care. 

 **From Miller**  
Staying at Monty’s  
tonight. Have fun.

 **From Clarke**  
Hate/love you!

Nestled on the couch together, Clarke tipped her phone so Bellamy could see the screen. His smile was warm and he slid his hand around her waste, pulling her incrementally closer. 

“You two have a super functional relationship,” he murmured in her ear. 

Clarke laughed. “Yes, clearly.” 

He pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Apartment’s empty,” Bellamy said. “Miller said have fun.”

“I’m not doing anything that Miller tells me to,” Clarke countered.

He kissed her again, this time on the chin. “What about if I ask?” he hummed. Clarke turned to look at him and Bellamy caught her cheek, tipping her chin back so he could kiss her. “Hmmm?” 

Clarke’s hands found Bellamy’s shoulders before she swung her leg around his hips. Bellamy’s grin was wicked, and Clarke felt fire beneath her skin. 

She could thank Miller in the morning.

* * *

“It’s weird being back here,” Wells said, walking through their apartment. Clarke was nestled in one of the chairs, wrapped in blankets, while Miller was sprawled out on the couch with his phone in his hand. “It’s bigger than I remember.”

“You’ve been gone for like, three months,” Miller said. “You’re acting like it’s been forever.”

Wells dropped onto the couch and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “You two getting along?”

Clarke shot Miller a look, which he grinned in response to, before reaching over to push Wells’ feet off the coffee table with a thud. 

“Splendidly,” Miller said. 

“Best friends forever,” Clarke cheered.


	43. finals struggle

Miller heaves a sigh from his seat across the table, and it takes every ounce of energy that Monty had inside of him to not shoot Miller a glare. Monty’s _fine_. He may be practically living in the library, but whatever. Once his differential equations final is over he’ll take a shower and sleep for a year. It’ll be _fine_. 

“When’s the last time you slept?” Miller asks, his voice trying to hover somewhere in the casual range.

“Like, ten hours ago,” Monty lies. He’s not really sure when he last slept. He can feel Miller’s eyes on him, but again Monty refuses to look at him. “Really. I’m okay.”

“When’s your test?” Miller asks.

Monty tries not to roll his eyes. “You’re distracting me,” he murmurs. 

Miller heaves another sigh and looks down at his essay. He’s one of those people that scribbles it out in his horrible chicken scratch before transferring it to the computer. He makes a few marks on his essay before pausing again.

Monty’s friends have basically been on an around-the-clock watch of him since he locked himself in the library. It’s open 24 hours these days, what with finals here, and no one seems to mind that everyone else is half-dead. Monty can barely keep his eyes open, but whatever. He’s learning. Sort of. Kind of. 

“You know,” Miller starts, and that’s when Monty _does_  look up. It’s unfair that even at the end of finals week Miller looks great. Well-rested and freshly bathed and just generally handsome. “Sleep is good for memory retention,” Miller says slowly, despite the look of death Monty is trying to give him.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice,” Monty nearly snaps. “And seriously. I’m fine. Okay? You don’t have to be so–concerned.”

Miller holds his gaze. “I’m worried about you,” he says simply. And then after a beat. “We all are.”

“If I don’t get an A on this test then I fail the class,” Monty tells him. “If I fail the class then I don’t get into my major. If I don’t get into my major I’m stuck here an extra year.”

“No one’s pretending like this test isn’t a big deal for you, Monty,” Miller says. “But I still think that sleeping and showering will help.” Monty’s eyes flicker to his notes before looking up at Miller again. “My dorm is closer to your test building than yours is,” Miller says. “Come shower. I’ll make you ramen, or something. And you can sleep. I’ll give you some sweats to wear.” Monty’s head is a little dizzy. “Come on,” Miller says. “Let me take care of you.” 

It takes a bit more convincing, but eventually Miller gets Monty to leave the library. Miller lives in one of the on-campus apartments, sharing one with Bellamy, but Monty is relieved to find it empty when they get there. Miller gestures to the shower and practically rips Monty’s notes from his hands.

After a quick shower and some pasta (because Miller insists that carbs are good), Monty feels his eyes grow heavy. Miller pushes him toward his bedroom before shutting him in. Monty climbs into Miller’s bed reluctantly and falls asleep in minutes. 

–

Monty passes his test with flying colors the next day. When he finds Miller the next day, before Miller can even ask Monty how he thinks he did, Monty kisses him. 

“Thanks,” Monty murmurs as he pulls back. “For um, taking care of me.”

Miller grins. “Any time.”


	44. christmas after christmas

**Year One**

Miller tends to love Christmas more than the average individual. Looking at him, no one would really think so. He’s more reserved in nature, always sort-of brooding, and doesn’t like to smile. But every Christmas, he pulls out his box from storage and decorates his entire apartment. He has an entire collection of travel mugs that he takes to work, solely Christmas related. He drinks peppermint everything. He listens to nothing but Christmas music in the car.

He fucking loves Christmas.

But he doesn’t like people to _know_ that. It’s always been his favorite holiday, his favorite time of year, his favorite everything. But it’s like, a secret obsession. Secret love.

Bellamy fucking Blake, however, knows that Miller’s a Christmas-ohalic. Which is why when Miller loses a bet (which was unrelated to the holidays at all, and more about who could bench-press more), Bellamy takes advantage of that.

“Ugly Christmas sweaters,” Bellamy says. Miller frowns at him. “You have to wear a new ugly Christmas sweater three out of five days of the work week.” Miller’s frown deepens into a scowl. “I’m sure your closet’s full of them anyway. Won’t be so hard.”

And while Miller does have a _few_ ugly Christmas sweaters, he doesn’t own fucking twelve of them. So, to the store he heads, grumbling all the way.

Selecting what to buy isn’t that difficult. He just heads to the discount section, finds his size, and grabs 10 sweaters without even looking at them. He’d skimp on the bet if he and Bellamy didn’t work in the same office, but he’s already clued in at least six other people to Miller’s punishment, so he has to deliver. And, whatever. Now he’ll have a shit-ton of Christmas sweaters to give out to friends when they call him frantic because they need something to wear to an office holiday party.

Without any sort of hesitation, he dumps all of the sweaters onto the counter. The boy at the register seems half-asleep and he startles when the hangers clatter against the surface. He stands up straight, looks at Miller’s pile, and smiles an adorably dopey smile that Miller has absolutely no time for.

“What,” the boy wonders, “lose a bet?”

“Yes,” Miller answers. “That’s exactly it.” The boy, whose nametag reads Monty, lights up with a grin that is brighter than any sort of Christmas star Miller’s seen in recent. He starts scanning, looking at all of the sweaters with a happy smile on his face as he goes. “You—are you new?” Miller asks, making conversation.

Miller’s chosen to go to this small shop outside of town for his sweater-retrieval. It’s incredibly cheap and no one there knows him. Plus, it has a homey feel to it. And as previously stated, Miller fucking loves Christmas, and they decorate and everything.

“Nah,” Monty answers. “Seasonal employee. Home from school until late January.” Miller nods and Monty’s grin is back, super bright. “What,” he wonders again, “do you come here a lot?”

Miller tips his head back. “Would that be a problem?”

Monty is still grinning, and wow it’s a sight. “Not at all.”

* * *

**Year Two**

How Miller and Monty have progressed from Miller being a regular customer at Jasper’s mom’s boutique where Monty works during holiday seasons, to actual friends, is still completely beyond Monty’s level of comprehension. They first met during the Christmas holiday last year, considering Miller worked in the area, and now that Monty’s graduated college and is home for good while looking for work they’ve stepped it up a notch.

Monty figures it’s probably because Miller noticed Monty was around in say, August, when he should’ve been at school, and asked if he flunked out or what. Thankfully Monty had just graduated, was taking a break to realign his brain, and then getting into the workforce. Miller invited Monty out for drinks with him and his friends. And then a real friendship sort of just grew.

Which is unfortunate when Monty really, really, really wants more than that. Like a lot. A lot more than that.

He starts making plans toward the end of October, and like most things that involve Miller Monty’s not entirely sure how they’ve gotten to the point at which they’re at now. He’s just staring at Spotify, looking at playlist he’s titled Christmas Songs – Miller, and frowning. Because. It should be simple. You know. Making a cute boy you like a Christmas playlist to win over his heart. It shouldn’t be full of Monty wondering if Miller likes more religious songs or silly songs or emotional songs. It’s just that they met in the Christmas season, so a Christmas playlist makes sense as a gift-without-being-a-real-gift.

“Screw it,” Monty says to himself before filling the playlist with Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You”. 84 times.

He kind of forgets about the playlist for a bit, leaves it in his feed as a joke, and ends up making a real one. Full of classics like “Jingle Bells” and “Last Christmas” and Michael Buble. Only one “All I Want For Christmas Is You”. Really.

–

He ends up at Miller’s apartment in early December, scrambling to find a Christmas sweater to wear to Clarke’s holiday party. He happens to know that Miller has _a lot_ of sweaters, and after shooting him a text the other doesn’t mind if he comes over and chooses from a selection.

“This is perfect,” Miller says, lingering in the doorway while Monty picks a sweater to wear from where Miller’s laid them all out on his bed. Monty’s noticed the insane amount of decorations adorning Miller’s apartment and is overly endeared. A Christmas tree (despite the fact that he lives alone) totally decked out with ornaments and tinsel and lights, Christmas cards displayed on the ledge of a windowsill, the smell of pine in the air as though he’s been lighting candles. “I knew having an absurd amount of sweaters would come in handy one day.”

“So many sweaters,” Monty says, browsing his options. He selects one that’s not hideous but looks big enough for him to pull his hands into the sleeves. One that Miller would like, one that probably smells like him. “Hey, that reminds me,” Monty says, holding it to his chest and turning to look at him. “I made you a Christmas playlist.” Miller’s eyebrows crawl up his face. “Obviously you probably already have like, twelve hundred. But.”

“I do not have twelve hundred playlists dedicated to Christmas,” Miller says.

Monty scans Miller’s room, also decorated for the holiday. Because normal people not only decorate their living rooms, but also their own personal sleeping areas.

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

Miller shutters his face at once. “I like Christmas,” he says.

“Clearly.”

“But that doesn’t mean I have a billion playlists,” Miller says. Monty pops his shoulder into a shrug and Miller clearly tries not to roll his eyes. He fails. “Well, have fun at your party, yeah?”

Monty hugs the sweater a little closer to him. “You should come,” he said. Miller frowns. “Free spiked eggnog,” Monty says. “And probably lots of Christmas cookies.” He gestures to the pile of sweaters on Miller’s bed. “It’s not like you’d be underdressed.”

There’s hesitation there. “When is it?”

“In like, three hours.” Miller hesitates again. “Bellamy’ll be there,” Monty says, remembering. “He and Clarke went to grad school together, or something. So it won’t be just me you know.”

“You think I don’t know that Bellamy and Clarke went to the same school?” Miller challenges. “It’s been years and he still won’t shut up about her. But—”

“Not a fan of parties?” Monty guesses.

“Not particularly.”

“You should come,” Monty says again. “It’s low-key. And I’ll be there.” Miller rolls his eyes again, but this time he looks fond. “Yeah? Say yes. C’mon.”

–

Miller agrees to come to the party, although a bit reluctantly, and insists that Monty at least play the Christmas playlist he made while they drive over. It’s not a long drive. But. It ends up being very long. Because.

“Give me your phone,” Miller says, reaching for the console. Monty’s face is burning. He selected the wrong Christmas playlist. “You probably just clicked the repeat button,” Miller says. Monty watches from the corner of his eye as Miller pulls up the playlist, sees him scroll through all 84 “All I Want for Christmas Is You”s, and then turns to look at Monty. “Uh.”

“Hm?”

Miller opens his mouth, and closes his mouth, and looks back down at the playlist. The song starts over again. And it’s not because it’s on repeat. It’s because there are 84 tracks in the playlist that are the same exact song.

“Nothing,” Miller says. He sets Monty’s phone down. The song plays three more times before they make it to Clarke’s.

* * *

**Year Three**

Monty is determined to kiss Nathan Miller this year.

Christmas is just around the corner once again, and they’ve yet to do anything of the sort. But it’s _there_. Monty knows it’s there. They have the lingering glances and the touches that last a bit too long and it’s just—it’s there! Okay! It’s totally there. So they’re going to kiss this year by the love of all that is Christmas-y.

**From Miller  
I need a favor.**

**From Monty  
mmhmmm?**

**From Miller  
My family Christmas  
party is this weekend  
and I need a date.  
Are you free? Drinks  
included.**

**From Monty  
wait, like, date-date?**

**From Miller  
I’m tired of my dad   
asking me when I’m  
going to find someone.  
So for-show date. If that’s  
okay?**

**From Monty  
fake date, got it. free   
drinks? sold. gotta   
borrow one of your ugly  
sweaters though**

**From Miller  
Deal.**

It’s just, Miller always has to make things more complicated.

–

Miller winds his arm around Monty’s waist on the couch and Monty, despite everything, nestles closer. Miller’s family is full of gems. His dad wears a Santa hat and is all smiles when he meets Monty. His aunts and uncles are just as bright. They’re all very loud. It’s funny to see that Miller’s from a family that’s so loud, whereas he’s rather reserved. But they’re in the basement now, just the two of them and the Christmas tree, and Miller winds his arm around Monty.

“Thanks for coming,” he murmurs.

Monty nods, offering him a smile. “It was the free alcohol that really sold it,” he says.

Miller arches a curious eyebrow. “Not getting to be with me?” he challenges.

Monty leans more into him. “You don’t have to bribe me to do that, Nate.” Miller reaches down then, cupping Monty’s cheek, and tugging him up to kiss him quickly. Monty makes a noise of shock into the kiss before his hands fly up to Miller’s sweater, and Miller’s smile is too wide for them to keep kissing. When they part Miller presses his forehead to Monty’s and brushes his thumb over Monty’s chin.

“I don’t have to bribe you to get you to hang out with me?” he wonders.

“Uh-uh,” Monty says, shaking his head. He can’t stop looking at Miller’s mouth. “But, um. I was supposed to do that. First. And all.”

Miller dips in another time. “I noticed Dad didn’t put up any mistletoe this year,” Miller murmurs against Monty’s lips. “So I had to improvise.”

“Yep. Okay. Into it.”

Miller grins another time.

Christmas might be Monty’s favorite holiday, too.

* * *

**Year Four**

So, okay. Maybe they’ve only been dating for a year. And Miller knows, on the grand scale of things, that a year really isn’t that long. But at the same time, so much can _happen_ in a year. So much, like falling in love. Like _knowing_ that someone is the one, that _someone_ is meant to be with you. It’s one of those things that time doesn’t make a difference for. You just know.

And he knows.

Miller is so terribly, desperately, and endlessly in love with Monty Green.

They’ve just climbed into bed and Miller wraps his arms around him, pulling Monty close before peppering his face with soft kisses. Monty smiles and nuzzles into Miller’s side. “You’re a dork,” Monty says sleepily. It’s late and they’ve just gotten back from another holiday party. Tomorrow is Christmas and they’ll stay in bed and wish for snow before exchanging presents. “Mr. Grump all the time,” Monty carries on with a yawn, “except not.”

“Except not,” Miller echoes.

“With me,” Monty hums. “Or on Christmas.”

“Hate you. Hate Christmas.”

“Shut up,” Monty laughs. He opens his eyes before cupping Miller’s cheeks and dragging him up for a kiss. They’re at Miller’s apartment, considering it was closer to the party than Monty’s, but Miller’s hoping it’ll be come _their_ apartment in time. Maybe sooner than Monty’s anticipating himself. “You love Christmas,” Monty says warmly. “And you love me.”

“You sure?”

“Mm-hm.” He kisses Miller again and Miller’s entire body feels warm. “Very sure. You only tell me all the time.”

“All the time,” Miller echoes.

“Say it,” Monty murmurs, clearly still exhausted but also wanting this.

“That I love Christmas?”

“ _Nate_.”

“I love you, Monty,” he says softly. “I’m in love with you. Very much.”

“Very much,” Monty echoes with a smile that has no right being so bright. “I love you,” he responds, just as softly.

They sink into the blankets together.

–

Miller’s like a child on Christmas morning, jumping out of bed the second he’s awake. He knows there won’t be any more presents under the tree than were there last night, and he knows that Monty’s going to sleep at least another few hours, but he’s restless at once. He goes to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, he readjusts the cards he has displayed a dozen times, and he waits. And he waits. And he waits. And then Monty’s awake, wrapped in one of Miller’s ugly Christmas sweaters, stumbling out of his room still rubbing at his eyes.

He greets Miller for a kiss under the archway between the dining area and the kitchen. But before he can open his mouth to say good morning, or merry Christmas, or anything at all, Miller’s dropping to one knee.

It comes out in a rush, frantic, his love for Monty, his one question.

“Will you marry me?”

And Monty’s there, blinking hard, squinting down at his boyfriend as though he’s still trying to wake himself up.

“What?” Monty asks. “I think I…” he trails off, blinking harder, before something must strike him. Miller feels awkward on the floor, but Monty quickly joins him. “Did I hear you right? You want to marry me?”

Miller nods and clears his throat all at once. “Yeah,” he rasps. “Yeah, that’s—yes.”

“Yes,” Monty echoes. He looks up, finding a mistletoe, before looking back at his boyfriend. “I’m asleep still,” Monty says, his lopsided smile forming on his face. “Yes—of course—Jesus, yes.” He cups Miller’s cheeks and kisses him deeply. “Yes!” Miller laughs into Monty’s mouth. “You couldn’t have waited—” he stops for a kiss “—for me to have some—” another one “—coffee first?” Miller laughs again and Monty grins, basically tugging him backwards onto the floor.

Later, they’ll get their coffee and they’ll trade presents. Later, they’ll curl up on the couch and watch reruns of classic Christmas movies. Later, they’ll call around and tell their friends.

But now, they celebrate the first of many Christmases to come.


	45. more christmas

“I’ve been waiting my entire life for this moment,” Monty said as he sunk down into his chair, reaching for the cookies on the plate beside it. Miller lingered in the doorway, a warm smile on his face as Monty took big bites before leaving crumbs out. “Literally my entire life.”

“You were born and the first conceivable thought you had,” Miller wondered, “was: ‘I can’t wait to pretend to be Santa for my kids one day.’?” 

Monty grinned. “Mm-hm. Definitely. I wanted to be Santa before I even knew that Santa existed. Or didn’t exist. Whatever.” 

Miller shook his head fondly before crossing the room, shooing Monty out of his seat so he could sit, and then wrapping his arms around Monty’s waist and dragging him back down to his lap. Miller nuzzled into his neck and kissed his collarbone. 

“You think she’s really asleep?” Miller asked. “Or faking it so she can sneak out and see Santa?”

“If she’s anything like her dad then she’s totally faking it,” Monty answered. 

“Well, if she’s anything like her other dad,” Miller countered, “then she’s out like a light.”

“Of _course_  you were one of those kids,” Monty laughed. 

“Sleep was vital. Even as a child.”

“Of course,” Monty said another time. 

They sat in silence for a bit, Monty on Miller’s lap in the quiet of their living room. Upstairs their daughter (hopefully) slept, dreaming of gumdrops and sugarplums and whatever else it was that Monty read from the book to her. But here they sat, the quiet welcome before what was sure to be an exciting morning, taking in the glow of their Christmas tree. 

“When can I give you my gift?” Monty asked after a bit. 

Miller kissed his neck another time. “Depends. What’s the gift entail?” Monty grinned, turning to face Miller head on. Miller couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped him. “We gonna need Bellamy to babysit again?”

“Um, yes.” 

Miller laughed again. “We can ask him in the morning.” Monty dipped in, kissing his husband deeply. The clock they had in the hallway chimed quietly, signifying midnight and Monty pulled back just enough so Miller could murmur, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” Monty echoed against his lips. 


	46. hesitant miller

Every time Nathan meets Monty’s eyes from across the room, he has to look away. Just because Nathan radiates easy confidence and smugness doesn’t mean he has any idea what the fuck is actually going on. More specifically: he’s never had a serious boyfriend, and Monty is entirely too cute for Nathan to get his hopes up.

He’s in college now and high school had always been a struggle. After his mother died and his father was left to raise him on his own, Nathan decided to keep his mouth shut. He was a troubled kid always getting into one mess after the other, and coming out in a small town wouldn’t do much to help David in terms of parenting. So he never told his dad he was gay, or anyone, and the most he’d ever done was share a few quick kisses down an empty hallway with another boy who was just as scared as he was.

Monty is unabashedly unafraid of who he is. He speaks openly about his bisexuality and the struggles he went through when he came out at home. He embraces the geeky nerd side of himself. He’s friendly with absolutely everyone.

Nathan’s head over heels for him. It’s unfortunate. 

Even more unfortunate when Monty plops into the seat beside him in the library, a dorky grin on his face, and asks Nathan out for coffee. It causes Nathan to stutter, stumble over his words. “Like a date?” he asks.

“Not _like_ a date,” Monty says. “ _A_ date.” 

Nathan isn’t entirely sure how he manages to say yes, but he does. Monty leaves him feeling overwhelmed and excited all at once.

* * *

It’s a standard date. Nathan tried going on a few with girls in high school (which was incredibly horrible and awkward and didn’t help him at all) but none of them are like the one with Monty. Monty, so bright and smiley and kind. Monty, who laughs at all the right places, who nudges Nathan under the table with his foot, who looks at Nathan like he’s something special. Monty, who doesn’t push Nathan to talk about himself, but listens eagerly when he does. 

But it’s just coffee, and coffee dates end. There’s no kiss at the end, though Monty’s eyes linger on Nathan’s lips for a very long time and Nathan craves it desperately, but there is a second date set. 

“I’ve never seen you like this,” Bellamy says when Nathan sinks onto the couch afterwards. “You’re like–a zombie. Was it not a good date?”

“It was an excellent date,” Nathan mutters in response. But when happens when Monty tries to kiss him and Nathan’s lips don’t remember how to work? Or if Monty wants more and Nathan’s hands start to sweat? 

Maybe he’s thinking ahead too much but Nathan’s been doing this for years, forming hypothetical relationships with people in his mind before things even go anywhere. And Monty seems like the type of guy that Nathan could end up with in the long run.

Their next date ends in a kiss and Nathan’s so overwhelmed that he has to pull away before he winds his fingers in Monty’s hair and pins him against a wall. Monty’s grinning when they part and Nathan’s breathless and it’s so much, it’s so much. 

“Huh,” Monty says. 

“What?”

He’s still smiling. “I don’t know,” Monty says, shrugging a little. “I’ve just been wondering what a kiss with you would be like for a very long time.” 

Nathan feels the air rush out of him. “That bad?”

Monty steps forward and tugs Nathan’s shirt down to kiss him again. “You’re an idiot,” Monty murmurs, still smiling, and Nathan feels yellow happiness exploding in his veins. 

* * *

They’re at Monty’s apartment when things start to get hot. Monty’s hands are easing up Nathan’s shirt and Nathan’s unsure if he should be focusing on breathing or losing himself to the feel of Monty’s fingertips.

Finally he pulls away. Monty sits up, looking at him curiously but not angrily, and waits. “I’ve never done this before,” Nathan says, his voice thick.

Monty arches an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Nathan gestures between them. “This.”

Monty blinks a few times, something empty passing over his face. “Are you just–experimenting?” he asks.

Nathan shakes his head. “No, God–that’s almost exactly the opposite of what I meant.”

Monty reaches for him, carefully sliding his hands to cup Nathan’s cheeks. “Well if you used your words,” he teases, but it’s still soft, as he’s still unsure.

“I wasn’t out in high school,” Nathan elaborates. “This is the first time I’ve…” he trails off, and Monty’s eyes widen in realization.

“Oh.” Nathan’s chest feels hot, but Monty kisses him. “That’s okay,” he insists. “Really. It’s different with every person anyway, so it’s like the first time all over again every time.” Nathan meets his eyes, and thank God Monty’s smiling that soft smile of his. “We going too fast?” Monty asks. Nathan shakes his head, because there’s no easy to way to explain it feels like there’s an inferno beneath his skin and he’s going to explode with the need of touching Monty. Monty’s smile becomes dangerous. “Too slow?” he asks, his voice dropping. 

Nathan holds his gaze and he thinks, even without words, that Monty understands how he feels. 

The tentatively meet in the middle Nathan slightly more sure of himself than in the moments previous. Monty seems to notice as he sighs into Nathan’s mouth, gripping his shoulders just a bit harder. They shed their clothes piece by piece, Nathan overwhelmed but blissful as Monty kisses his way down Nathan’s chest. Nathan’s fingers tangle in Monty’s hair as he licks his way to Nathan’s release and then they’re both there, panting, Nathan staring up at the ceiling almost dizzy.

“I want to make you feel like that,” he murmurs after kissing Monty soundly. 

“You do,” Monty says.

“No, like _that_.” 

So then it’s Nathan’s turn, learning Monty’s body, kissing over Monty’s hips, leaving the two of them melting into Monty’s bed sated and happy. 

When their bones have turned to liquid and they curl into one another under Monty’s sheets, Nathan tries to find his voice.

“Was that okay?” he finally asks.

Monty laughs, turning to look at him, and nods. “Better than okay,” he answers. 

Nathan feels more at peace than ever before.


	47. mamihlapinatapei

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The look between two people in which each loves the other but is too afraid to make the first move.

Monty sighs, sinking down onto the table as he looks across the room at where his friends are gathered. His eyes linger on Miller, a drunken smile on his face as Bellamy tells him something just for the two of them, before Clarke lowers herself into the seat across from Monty and pulls his gaze away. 

“You okay?” she asks, following his gaze to the rest of their friends. 

He sighs another time before shrugging his shoulders. Miller looks so happy, and it’s been a long time since Monty’s seen him like that. Ever since he broke up with Bryan a few months ago, smiles from Miller were rarer than ever before. He’s been trying to find himself, or so he says, and Monty loves that about him. That he’s taking time to relearn who he is after breaking up with his boyfriend. But at the same time, Monty wants to pull Miller close. To tell him how he feels. To make that move. 

“You ever been in love?” Monty asks. 

Clarke whirls back to look at him, her eyebrows high on her forehead. “I think so,” she says carefully. There’s a beat. “Have you?”

“I think so,” Monty echoes. “I mean–I don’t know.” He sits up in his chair and looks to his friend. “There’s, like. So many kinds of love. I don’t know.” 

Clarke reaches across the table to grab Monty’s hand, but he looks out toward Miller again. This time their eyes meet, and the smile slowly slips from Miller’s face. They just look at once another from across the room, Monty feeling so far away, wishing he knew what Miller felt. He watches as Miller swallows, as his lips part, before he looks away with eyebrows furrowed. 

“You’ll never know unless you say something,” Clarke tells him gently. 

Monty looks down to where she’s holding his hand, and sighs again. “I know,” he murmurs. But it’s so much easier said than done. 


	48. apodyopis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the act of mentally undressing someone

Monty was starting to think that he had a problem. 

It started because of that one time he showed up to Bellamy’s early and Miller came out of the shower wearing nothing but a towel, causing Monty’s mouth to go just a little dry. He’d always _know_  that Miller was fit. Hell, the guy went to the gym every freaking day. But seeing his bare chest and his abs all glistening from the shower? Yeah, Monty forgot how to think for a second.

It was just once, seeing Miller like that. He’d quickly apologized and hurried off to get dressed before coming out to properly greet Monty. But he came out wearing low hanging sweats and a shirt just a little too small and, good God, _that V_ and those _hips_. 

Things started to spiral. 

Even though it was winter Monty started freaking fantasizing about the guy. Now that he knew what was under all those clothes Monty found himself zoning out, wondering how long it would take to strip off Miller’s flimsy sweatshirt and ratty t-shirt underneath to get to his body underneath. Or if he was a boxers or briefs type of guy–did he bother wearing either when he wore sweats? How did Miller take off his shirts? Probably by doing that hot over the back thing, pulling the shirt inside out to get it off. 

 _Stop, stop, stop_ , Monty scolded himself. Every time his mind would drift he would catch himself, mid act of mentally stripping Miller, reminding himself to _chill out unless you want a freaking boner in public_. 

Today was just like the others, Miller with his shirt a little too tight around the arms and some more gray sweatpants that hung just a little too low and Monty’s mind went to a dangerous place that involved kissing his way down Miller’s abs and–

“Monty?” Miller waved his hand in front of Monty’s face to get his attention. “You in there?”

Monty licked his lips and cleared his throat, trying to turn his thoughts back to appropriate. “Yeah,” he rasped. “Totally.”


	49. strikhedonia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the pleasure of being able to say "to hell with it"

“If he can put up with your incessant ramblings about agricultural engineering,” Jasper said as they entered the party, “then you can definitely, 100%, put up with his dramatic English talk.”

Monty whined. Why did Miller have to be so stupidly cute, but love something so stupidly boring? Monty didn’t _care_ about Shakespeare or Dickens or the symbolism (or lack thereof) in an average story. And that was Miller’s go-to conversation at any given moment. 

(Jasper theorized it was because Monty made him nervous, and because Miller knew so much about literature it was just his fall-back. Monty wasn’t so sure.)

A few knocks later Wells was letting them into his apartment which was already crowded with all of their friends and blasting some techno-pop that Raven probably put on. Monty veered straight for the kitchen to take a shot, relief coursing through him the second he had the vodka in his system. 

(Miller made Monty nervous, too.)

“Hey,” Bellamy greeted him with a smile. “Miller’s been looking for you. Didn’t think you’d show.” Bellamy gestured toward the hallway and Monty thanked him with a smile of his own before traveling down the hallway, bumping into Miller as he went.

“Monty!” Miller cheered. Miller was drunk. Monty grinned. “Was wondering when you’d show up,” he said. Even drunk, Miller had a lot of composure. It was just obvious in the flush of his cheeks and the crooked smile he wore. “How’re you?”

“I’m good,” Monty said. “Have a lot to drink?”

“Guess you better catch up,” Miller said with a grin. “That way I don’t have to go off about–what was it, symbolism or something.”

Monty’s smile wilted slightly. “You run into Jasper?”

“Sorry I bore you,” Miller said, still grinning.

“You don’t. I just–”

“You bore the shit out of me,” Miller cut him off. “I don’t care about–wheat production rates, or whatever.” 

Monty feigned a gasp. “So rude. You always seem so interested!”

“In you, yeah. In engineering?” Miller shook his head. And dammit, he was still smiling. “Engineering to me is English to you.” Miller leaned against the wall, propping himself up with his elbow. “But I love listening to you talk. So.” 

Monty licked his lips, trying to fight his own smile and failing. “To hell with it,” he muttered. He reached out, cupping Miller’s cheeks, and pulling him into a kiss. Miller chased his lips when Monty pulled away, spinning and trapping Monty against the wall as he deepened the kiss. 

When Miller finally pulled back, he stationed himself above Monty and only moved away enough to give them room to breathe. “Well that was,” Miller started, “unexpected.” 

“Figured we’d skip the boring part?” Monty tried. 

Miller flashed another grin. “Fine with me,” he said, leaning in to kiss him again.


	50. awkward flirting

“I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong,” Jasper said, dramatically flailing his arms as he commenting on his and Maya’s awkward sex life. “I’m trying, here!” 

“Can’t relate,” Miller murmured as he fought a smile. He lifted his cup to take a drink, wishing he wasn’t having this conversation.

“Well it’s not like that’s ever been a problem for you,” Monty said, leaning in Miller’s direction and resting his hand on Miller’s shoulder. “Right?”

Their group of friends went silent. Immediately. And awkwardly. Miller cleared his throat and Monty quickly removed his hand, back to his side, and looked toward the ground. 

Miller tipped back the rest of his drink attempting to remain calm and held up his cup. “I need more alcohol,” he murmured to his friends. He walked away, Monty hot on his heels, before they were alone and Miller spun to face him. “What is _with_  you tonight?” he asked Monty in the hallway. 

“I–nothing.”

“You sure?” Miller pressed. “Because it feels like there’s something. That I’m missing. Like, drastically missing. Unless you lost a bet, and–”

“I’m flirting with you,” Monty blurt. “Or–well. Trying. And failing spectacularly, it seems. Because I’m really bad at it. And you are _very_  hard to read. And I am so sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

Miller stifled a laugh and managed a smile. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” Miller said. “I’m just very bad at–well. Flirting. Also. And that was awkward.” Monty’s eyebrows shot to his forehead and he stepped in Miller’s direction slowly. “And you’re always handsy, so–”

“No I’m _not_.”

“Yes you are,” he insisted.

“Maybe with you,” Monty pressed. “Because like–arms.” 

Miller laughed. “Stop!”

“I’m serious!” Monty reached forward, hands outstretched, and rested them gently on Miller’s shoulders before slowly moving them down toward his biceps. The both of them were quiet, their smiles slowly fading into something more serious. “Wow,” Monty said gently. 

“Stop,” Miller said again, a breath of a laugh in his voice. 

Monty looked up at him, his arms still on Miller’s biceps. “Can I try again?” he asked. Miller nodded, though he wasn’t entirely sure what he was agreeing to. “I like you. Plain as day. No hidden veils or whatever. Just–me, liking you.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay.” Despite the fact that Monty had just admitted this, the words still lodged in Miller’s throat. “I like you too,” he said. “A lot,” Miller added. Monty stepped closer and Miller’s breath hitched. “A lot,” he said again. 

“Yeah?” Monty asked. 

“And you were right,” Miller murmured. “I don’t have problems in bed. Just a 100% success rate.” 

“What are you measuring success by?” Monty asked with a grin. “Orgasms? Or general satisfaction? Or–”

“Want to find out?” Miller asked.

Monty laughed. “Now who’s flirting?” he joked. Miller’s eyes twinkled. “Let’s get out of here.” 


	51. come home with me

Miller sat quietly in his car, listening to Monty sniffle quietly in his passenger seat as he gazed out the window. It was late and dark and there were hardly any other cars on the road. Miller considered turning on the radio, but after seeing Rogue One he didn’t trust whatever pop music the local station might play.

Monty sniffled again and Miller turned his head to look at him. “You sure you want me to drop you off at your place?” he asked, and Monty sniffled another time. “With Jasper at Maya’s–”

“I’ll be fine,” Monty rasped. He lifted his hand, digging the heel of his palm into his eye to stop himself from crying. “God, I just didn’t expect…” 

Yeah, Miller felt the same. The reviews for Rogue One had been amazing, but that ending left him feeling sidelined and slightly broken. Monty even more so, clearly. 

Miller sighed and pulled to a stop a red light. “Come home with me,” he said gently. Monty just kept sniffling. “We can put on A New Hope and fall asleep on my couch.”

The first smile since they left the theater graced Monty’s face. “We don’t have to,” he responded. 

“I want to,” Miller said. 

Monty looked at him with a soft smile on his face until the light turned green and Miller had to look back at the road. “Okay,” Monty finally said. Miller turned down the street that would get them to his apartment, and soon the two of them were making their way up the stairs and into Miller’s place.

Miller set up the TV while Monty gathered all of Miller’s blankets from his bedroom, and together they climbed onto the couch. Monty nuzzled close, his eyes still rimmed with red, and Miller wrapped his arm around Monty’s waist. 

“Can we watch The Empire Strikes Back in the morning?” Monty asked softly.

“And Return of the Jedi after that,” Miller agreed. 


	52. cuddling all day

Miller’s already asleep by the time Monty climbs into bed. He’s been staying up later and later the past couple of nights working on some big project for work, something that makes him so anxious Miller can’t even be in the same room as him because Monty claims it’s distracting. When the bed dips, though, Miller stirs and blinks into the dark.

“Time is it?” he murmurs.

“I finished,” Monty answers. Miller’s awake at once, the sleepiness ripped from him at Monty’s happy, soft words. “It’s done, Nate, I finished the program.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Monty says, nodding. 

Miller pushes his way past layers of blankets to cup Monty’s cheeks and kiss him, grinning as Monty laughs into his mouth. “I knew you would,” Miller breathes and Monty kisses him again, his smile the brightest thing in their dark bedroom. “I’m sure it’s perfect, baby.” 

Monty laughs again and God, it’s so nice to have his fiancé back. Miller’s hands slip under Monty’s shirt, his fingers sliding across Monty’s hips. “It’s really late,” Monty whispers against Miller’s mouth.

“Don’t care,” Miller whispers back as he eases Monty’s shirt up and over his head. His hands smooth over Monty’s bare chest and Monty’s still smiling, and everything is warm. “I missed you. We can sleep in tomorrow.” 

“Spend all day in bed,” Monty agrees softly. 

“God, yes.” 

In the dark of their bedroom they peel off one another’s clothes, tossing them to the floor so their hands can touch skin, both of their bodies hot in the cool night. Miller isn’t sure when they end up falling asleep, but when they wake up the sun is streaming through the window. 

Miller has his arms wrapped around Monty’s naked body, his chest to Monty’s back, and he sighs in quiet happiness. Monty stirs, wiggling backwards and closer toward Miller, causing a laugh to climb out of Miller’s throat.

“Coffee?” Monty asks, his voice still thick with sleep.

“Mmm, no. You said we could spend all day in bed.”

Monty laughs, too, turning in Miller’s grasp to face him. “I did, didn’t I?” Miller manages to steal a kiss before pulling back, purposefully bumping his nose against Monty’s, and kissing him again. “Bed it is,” Monty whispers. 


	53. looking for you

Miller pushed his way into Bellamy’s quarters without knocking. He knew it was rude but he was seeing red and he couldn’t stop himself. Bellamy arched a curious eyebrow at him when he entered and Miller was practically heaving for air. 

“You okay?”

“This is all a fucking disaster,” Miller snapped. Bellamy’s hands flew up and Miller let out a long breath, knowing his anger was misplaced. “Sorry, sorry. I just.” Miller scrubbed his hands over his face. “You won’t fucking believe what happened tonight.”

“From what I recall,” Bellamy said slowly, “you were going to ask Monty on a date.”

“Yeah, well guess what didn’t fucking happen,” Miller muttered. He would join Bellamy on the couch if he didn’t have an urgent need to pace. “And guess what happened instead?”

“He asked you first?” Bellamy wondered.

“No, Bryan got drunk and forced himself on me while Monty watched from a distance. And when I tried to turn to Monty and explain, he fucking bolted.”

Bellamy let out a long, low whistle while Miller sighed another time. “That’s… not good.”

“I can’t fucking find him anywhere,” Miller went on. “After I dropped Bryan off at a friend’s place Monty was just gone. Fuck.”

“Stop saying fuck,” Bellamy said.

“Don’t reprimand me,” Miller threw back, pointing at his friend. “I’m fucking pissed.”

“Evidently.” Miller needed to calm down. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and then another, and then another, before looking back to Bellamy. Bellamy smiled. “Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Miller muttered. 

“Go find your boy,” Bellamy said, waving at the door.

“Yeah,” Miller said again. 

He stormed out of Bellamy’s quarters, happy his friend let him rant but still simmering deep inside, before he took to Arkadia again. He made what felt like three laps before he spotted Monty at one of the communal fires. Rapid steps led him to Monty’s side, and when Monty realized it was Miller he tensed up.

“Hey,” Monty greeted softly.

“Hey. I’ve been looking for you.”

Monty kept his eyes on the fire. “Oh yeah? You looked… busy.”

“No,” Miller stressed. “No. I–Bryan was drunk. I’m not–we’re _not_.” Monty turned to look at him, eyes wide and glowing in the firelight. “And it was shit timing,” Miller carried on, “because I was _looking_  for _you_.” 

Monty blinked. “You were?” he asked, and Miller nodded. “For… what?”

“I was going to ask you out,” Miller told him. Monty blinked a few more times. “And then–yeah.” 

“That changes things,” Monty said. Miller waited. “Are you still planning on that? Asking me out? Because you haven’t yet.”

“It was implied.”

Monty smiled, all tension that was there when Miller first arrived gone. “But not explicit.”

“Okay,” Miller said, a smile of both relief and excitement finding his face as well. “Do you wanna go out with me? We can get drinks tomorrow.” 

Monty grinned, reaching out to squeeze Miller’s hand. “I’d love to.” 


	54. valentine's day

“What are you doing Tuesday night?”

Monty looks up at the man asking the question, his mind still stuck somewhere in between binary and chemistry, and tries to think. His thing with Jasper got cancelled, and his assignment got pushed back, so the answer is–

“Nothing,” Monty says. “Why?”

Miller pops his shoulder into a shrug. “Want to get a drink?” he asks. 

Monty’s not busy, and he likes spending time with Miller, so the answer is–

“Sure. 8–Grounders?” Monty asks. Miller nods in confirmation, and there’s a smile there, one of those rare Monty Only smiles that makes Monty smile too. “See you then,” Monty says.

* * *

Only when Monty arrives at Grounders, decked out with pink and red hearts all around the place with couples seated in every booth, does he remember that it’s Valentine’s Day. It doesn’t take long to find Miller, sitting at the bar, chatting with Gina the bartender while he waits for Monty to arrive. 

Monty crosses the room to him quickly. 

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” he blurts. Miller stops his conversation with Gina and tips his head at Monty, one of his eyebrows arches. 

And for one horrible moment, Monty thinks that Miller didn’t do this on purpose. That he didn’t realize it was Valentine’s Day either, and Monty’s just made a big deal out of nothing. 

But then Miller says, “Yep.” 

“You asked me out for drinks,” Monty says. “On Valentine’s Day.”

Gina laughs before stepping away, leaving the two of them alone. 

“Yep,” Miller says again. Monty’s lips part and his mouth feels a little dry, and Miller’s smiling again that perfect Monty Only smile, and oh–this suddenly makes sense. “Are you going to sit down so I can buy you a drink,” Miller wonders, “or what?” 

Monty scoots into the seat beside him with a laugh. 

* * *

At the end of the night when Miller kisses him goodnight, his mouth tasting like the candy hearts that Grounders had out on the counter, Monty decides that he doesn’t care how cheesy Valentine’s Day is–it’s definitely his new favorite holiday.


	55. meeting david

Despite the fact that Monty tended to have a lot of energy, and generally not have any chill, he thought that he was good with parents. Parents _liked_ him. Teachers did too, and most older adults, especially old ladies.

So meeting Nate’s dad, Monty wasn’t nervous. He was fine in the car, chatting with Nate about the sort of things that David ( _he’ll tell you to call him David so just start off there_ , Nate had said) liked to do, his hobbies, all of the above. It wasn’t a problem. Monty wasn’t nervous.

Not until the front door opened and Nate greeted him with a hug, the both of them smiling brightly in a way that Monty’s never seen him smile before. Which meant: this was a big deal. Monty meeting Nate’s dad was a big deal. 

“You must be Monty,” David said once he was finished greeting his son, and Monty nodded, confused at the way his brain was suddenly blank. It took another moment for Monty to realize that David’s hand was extended to shake, and by the time Monty noticed David was already pulling his hand away. “Alright,” he said.

They entered David’s home and Nate’s eyes darted toward Monty, but he didn’t say anything.

He should’ve. Maybe it would’ve given Monty a shock back into reality.

It’s just–Nate was always so guarded. Kind and loving, sure, but guarded. To see the way he blossomed with his father meant this was important, and Monty wasn’t sure he was ready for the weight of that. 

It didn’t help when they sat down for dinner and Monty, after a question about dating in general, said something the lines of, “I’m not _gay,”_ with an uncomfortable look in Nate’s direction and awkward silence from David. “Bisexual,” he elaborated, his voice tight. 

And later, when talking about classes, when Monty said, “Nate doesn’t even _like_  criminal justice,” without realizing Nate was only studying criminal justice because his father was a cop.

Or upon realizing that, when he said, “The justice system is _so flawed_  these days, like sometimes it feels like there aren’t any good cops at _all_.”

When David got up to get a bottle of wine, the awkward silence between the three of them just absurd, Nate turned to him. He was back to being guarded, that carefree side of him tucked away again. “Are you okay?” Nate asked. “Because you seem not okay.”

“I’m really not okay,” Monty said. They were sitting across the table from one another and Monty reached out, needing to hold Nate’s hand. “God–this is–I keep saying the wrong things, and your dad is _clearly so important to you_ , and–” Monty shook his head, squeezing Nate’s hands. “I just didn’t realize how big of a deal this was and it’s making me act like a freaking idiot.”

There was a ghost of a smile back on Nate’s face and Monty wanted to see the entire thing bloom. “Why?” Nate asked softly. 

“Because I _love you_ ,” Monty said, almost desperate at this point. “And if your dad doesn’t like me, then–God, he probably thinks I’m insane or stupid, or–”

Nate squeezed his hands this time, cutting off Monty’s ramblings. “I love you too,” he said quietly. “That’s really all that matters, Monty.” 

Monty took a deep breath, nodding, preparing to fix whatever mess he’d started the evening with. He didn’t notice David in the doorway with a fond smile on his face, having overheard the whole thing. 

 


	56. spontaneous proposal

Monty’s known for a long time that he wants to spend the rest of his life with Nate. 

They’ve been together for years at this point, the two of them starting as strangers who had mutual friends, moving into friends of convenience until that one party where they made out, and the rest is history. Monty wasn’t prepared for one hot (like, really hot, in a freaking supply closet for christ’s sake) make out session to change his life so much. 

But then they started dating, and Monty was both relieved and surprised that he and Nate (Miller, at the time) had so much in common. They just _fit_ together. It was an easy extension of the way things used to be only so much better, because after all of their friends went home the two of them got to climb into bed together. And that was awesome. 

Now they have an apartment together. And two cats. And Monty’s in love with him. It’s just, tonight he _really_ knows it. Tonight, he wants to make it official. Tonight Monty is feeling brave.

They’ve just left the restaurant they had dinner in, something surprisingly romantic (especially for Nate, who’s usually only so romantic in private) that included champagne and candlelight and soft, live piano music, and have started a lap around a nearby lake. Monty’s tucked into Nate’s side, linked together as they enjoy their chilly, slow walk, when the thought really hits him. Monty wants to marry Nate so, so badly. 

“Hey,” Monty says.

“Hm?”

His heart is pounding in his ears but he has to ask before he loses his nerve. “Would you want to marry me?” 

Nate pauses in his step, tugging Monty to a halt too. 

Nate looks down at him, his eyes dark even with the insane amount of light the moon is giving them right now, and Monty instantly regrets asking because of the look on Nate’s face. It’s upset. Like, maybe he doesn’t want this. And maybe Monty’s been imagining the intensity of their relationship. And maybe this was the worst possible step for them. 

“Seriously?” Nate asks. 

For a moment, Monty wants to say no. That he was joking. But who is he kidding? He loves Nate an insane amount and if he’s been reading things wrong then now’s the time to know. “Seriously,” Monty says. “I–I really love you,” he says, rambling now, “and you just I just–it came to me right now and I had to say it before I panicked out of it.” 

“You’re asking me to marry you,” Nate says slowly, “on a whim.” 

Monty drops his hand from where he’s holding onto Nate, his mouth feeling dry. “I–do you not want to marry me?” he asks, his voice getting higher with each word. “Because it’s not–I mean, yeah it’s on a whim but I know how I feel, Nate, and I thought–”

Nate surges forward and kisses him firmly. “Stop talking,” he murmurs against Monty’s mouth. “Of course I want to marry you, idiot.”

Monty scoffs but there’s a smile there somewhere. It’s like sunshine has burst inside his chest. “Then what the heck was the attitude for?” he asks, clutching Nate’s shoulders. 

“It’s just that I’ve been planning this really romantic proposal for months now,” Nate murmurs. “In which I take you to an annoyingly romantic restaurant. And then we stroll around the park and look at the stars while Bellamy and Clarke fill our apartment with candles. And I give this long winded speech about how much I’m fucking in love with you. But I mean.” He kisses Monty again, though it’s not much of a kiss with Monty’s jaw dropped the way it is. “Here you are. Asking me to marry you on a whim.” Nate takes a step away, murmuring, “Are you _kidding me?”_ mostly to himself, before turning back to Monty.

“Nate–”

“Of course I want to marry you,” he says again.

Monty’s still beaming, his lips still parted in shock. “You–were going to propose tonight?”

“In like, an hour. Yeah.”

Monty laughs and finally Nate smiles. “You still can! I’ll just–”

“Shut up.”

Monty tugs Nate toward him forcefully and kisses him again. “You better still ask,” Monty murmurs between their mouths. “Like, I swear if you don’t ask and give me your giant speech, I’m revoking my proposal.”

“Shut _up_ ,” Nate says again, brighter than before, smiling widely now. They kiss for a bit before Nate pulls back, resting his forehead against Monty’s, looking both annoyed and fond at the same time. “I can’t believe you.” 

Monty can’t stop himself from grinning. “You still love me though,” he says, “right?”

“So damn much,” he murmurs before leaning in to kiss him again. 

When they finally make it back to their apartment, the entire place decorated with candles making the air smell a little bit like vanilla and fresh laundry, Monty’s overwhelmed at how beautiful it is. 

And even though he knows it’s coming, his eyes well up with tears when Nate lowers himself to one knee, that soft and knowing look on his face. 


	57. hotel room

So far, the night’s been amazing. 

Miller’s been wooed before by boyfriends past, but Monty really pulled all the stops out for their six month anniversary. He took the two of them to a fancy hotel in the city for a nice dinner before booking them a room so they don’t have to drive back for the night. 

Miller’s a little overwhelmed, considering it’s only their six months, but Monty is all bright and smiley and Miller doesn’t want to make things awkward. Still, Monty must notice Miller’s hesitation. 

“You okay, Nate?” he asks, eyeing Miller where he’s lingering by the door. Miller nods and looks around the room. It’s a beautiful room, large and spacious, with only one bed in the middle. Monty follows his gaze before turning back to Nate, a soft smile on his face. “We can just sleep,” he says. 

Miller swallows. “That’s not it,” he says. 

Monty arches an eyebrow. “You want to do more than sleep?” he asks. Miller ducks his head, fighting a smile, and Monty strides across the room to him. “What’s up?” he asks. 

After a few glasses of wine, his answer slips out without hesitation. “You’re a lot,” he says. 

Monty’s other eyebrow climbs up his forehead and he stops a few feet from his boyfriend. “Good kind of a lot?” he asks. 

Miller looks up, his cheeks flushed. “Yeah, Monty. Good kind of a lot.” Monty steps forward slowly. “I don’t know,” Miller murmurs. Monty reaches him, sliding his hands carefully around Miller’s waist. “We haven’t been together that long,” Miller says, “and this just feels like a lot.”

“I’ve known you since I was fifteen, Nate,” Monty reminds him. “We’re adults now. With salaries. And our own apartments.” Miller sighs but nods, understanding Monty’s point. “Hey,” he says. Miller looks up, meeting Monty’s eyes. “I know how I feel about you.”

“Monty, it’s not that I–”

Monty presses himself on his toes, kissing Miller firmly and cutting off his words. “You,” Monty says, “are a quiet soul. You’re very thoughtful. In fact, sometimes you think too much.”

“Well I don’t–”

Monty cuts him off with another kiss, the two of them smiling when Monty pulls away. “I, however, am a lot. I’m loud. And sure. And I don’t think things through, I just act.” Miller reaches up, cupping Monty’s cheek and swiping his thumb over Monty’s chin. “If it’s _too much_ ,” he says, “then tell me.”

“It’s not,” Miller says. “You’re not.” 

Monty tips his head to the side. “You’re nervous about sharing a hotel room, Nate.” 

Miller pulls back, resting his head back against the door. “I have reasons,” he mutters. 

“I know,” Monty says, stepping forward again, grinding his hips against Miller’s. “You’ve been hurt. And our friend groups are insanely wound together. And you like me so much that your small, Grinch heart doesn’t know what to do about it.”

Miller reaches for Monty again, pulling his cheeks up so he can kiss him. “My small Grinch heart knows exactly what to do about it,” Miller murmurs hotly against Monty’s lips. “I just don’t want to ruin what we have.”

Monty grins. “You won’t,” he promises. “Because I’m in love with you, and–”

Miller cuts him off this time, stealing another kiss, gripping Monty tightly as he walks him backwards into the room and toward the bed. When they reach the bed Monty falls backwards, looking up at Miller with wide eyes and parted lips. 

“I love you too,” Miller tells him, sounding just as sure as he feels.

Monty grins, reaching up for the button of Miller’s jeans. Their night is about to get even better.


	58. moving on

Bellamy knocks a few times before giving up and keying into Miller’s apartment before he can answer the door. There’s a reason Bellamy’s one of the few people to have Miller’s spare, and it’s for situations like this. Situations in which Miller sends Bellamy a vague, terrifying text, and Bellamy needs to check in on his best friend. 

Today’s text read: _saw Monty with Harper today._ Followed by radio silence.

He finds Miller on the couch, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a bottle of rum in the other, staring blankly at some documentary from Netflix on his TV. 

“Who let you in?” Miller asks, not looking up.

Bellamy scoffs. “Give me _that_.” He manages to pry the rum from his hand, but no way in hell’s Miller letting go of the whiskey. “Talk to me,” Bellamy more or less demands. 

Miller sips from the bottle. “We were together for _three years_ ,” Miller rasps, flinching immediately after. He must know he doesn’t sound like himself. “How the fuck can he–he just moved on so fucking _fast_ , Bellamy.” 

Bellamy sighs. Miller’s his best friend, but he’s protective of Monty too. “You told him that you moved on, too,” he reminds him.

If a glower could murder, Bellamy would be dead. “Do I look like I’ve moved on?” Miller snaps, gesturing to the mess of a life that he’s living. There’re unwashed dishes and numerous old take-out containers and dirty laundry everywhere. Miller’s apartment, previously Miller and Monty’s apartment, is a disaster. “When I started talking about a break,” Miller carries on, his voice sounding heavy from the alcohol, “I just–I didn’t mean it like _this_ , I didn’t mean–I just needed to fucking focus on grad school, Bellamy. Now I can’t fucking focus on _anything_!” 

He watches Miller take another swig before shuddering and dropping his head into his hands. Bellamy remembers the fight well, because he was with Clarke, and Monty called Clarke the same time Miller called Bellamy. Miller had suggested putting things on pause just for a few weeks but it was blown out of proportion, and there was yelling, and Monty and Miller _never_ yelled at one another. 

And then it was over. And Miller was living like this. 

“Have you tried talking to him?” Bellamy asks carefully.

“No fucking point,” Miller mumbles. He sounds defeated and broken and it makes Bellamy feel the same. “He won’t answer my calls.” 

While Miller’s distracted Bellamy pries the bottle of whiskey from his hands too, and then he just looks _sad_. It takes a bit of work, some soft promises of coffee in the morning and a future that Bellamy can’t be sure will be brighter, but eventually Bellamy gets his friend in bed. 

He goes to work the second Miller starts snoring, cleaning up the mess that’s been left, until his phone buzzes with a text. _Monty’s a wreck_ , it reads, from Clarke. _He clearly misses Miller so much. What do I say?_

Despite it all, Bellamy smiles. Maybe he can help his friends after all. 


	59. after an accident

The only reason Monty wakes up is because Nate sits up in the middle of the night with something between a gasp and a sob stuck in his throat. Nate’s on the edge of the bed in seconds, his legs hanging over the side as he tries to steady his breathing.

Monty crawls across to him. “Nate?”

Nate jumps. “I’m fine,” he rasps. 

“You don’t _sound_ fine,” Monty challenges. He’s found that with Nate, it’s a lot easier to just get to the point rather than beat around the bush. Nate doesn’t like hiding parts of him from Monty so Monty makes sure he doesn’t have to. “Another nightmare?” he asks. 

Nate jerks his head into a nod but he doesn’t move from there, gripping the edges of their bed so tightly that his knuckles are white. “It’s stupid,” he grits out.

“It’s not stupid,” Monty tells him. Nate was in a car accident. A bad one. Where his car flipped a few times. And it was storming. And he was down a ditch for hours. And the guilt that Monty didn’t know something was immediately wrong when Nate wasn’t home right away is strong. But Nate’s still healing, mentally and physically, and Monty can’t even imagine the sort of desperate thoughts that were running through his head when he was down there alone. “Come here.”

“I’m fine,” Nate forces out.

“I know. Just come here.” After a shuddering breath Nate forces himself back by Monty’s side. He’s still sore even after a week and the bruises and cuts have barely started to fade. Monty’s usually the one cozying up to Nate, but tonight Monty tugs him so Nate’s against Monty’s chest. 

“I can’t stop fucking _thinking_ about it,” Nate chokes out and Monty’s heart twists. 

“Shh,” Monty whispers. He needs to hold onto Nate just as badly as Nate needs to hold onto him. “You’re safe. I won’t let you go.” 

Nate lets out another shuddering breath and nuzzles closer, wrapping his arm around Monty’s waist. “I know,” he whispers. “I know.” 

There’re no more nightmares that night. 

 


	60. get some sleep

Monty startled at the feel of someone’s hands on his shoulders. “Hey,” Nate murmured softly, ducking down by Monty’s ear. Nate’s breath was warm against his skin. “You fell asleep again.”

Monty shrugged Nate’s hands off of his shoulders. “I’m fine,” he lied. There was absolutely no way that he was fine. His final project was due in three days and he wasn’t sure he would finish on time. “Seriously.”

“This is the most stressed I’ve ever seen you,” Nate corrected gently. Despite his usual Anger and Sarcasm and Tough Love, Nate tended to grow softer the more sharp Monty turned. It was a nice balance. Monty wasn’t sure he could handle a snappy Nate at this point. “C’mon. Come to bed, babe. Sleep will help.” 

Monty stared down at his laptop, his screensaver lighting up with various group photos of Monty and his friends. He sighed. 

Nate ducked down, closer to him again. “I’ll make it worth your while,” he whispered. Monty hesitated and in response, Nate lifted his eyebrows. “Don’t make me beg,” he added. 

A smile stretched across Monty’s face, even though he was annoyed. “It’s so much more fun when you beg, though.” Nate waited a beat, stepping away from Monty’s chair with his hands out and open, and finally Monty sighed. “Fine.” He closed his laptop and pushed himself out of his seat, accepting Nate’s outstretched hand.

Nate tugged him to their bedroom, casting a quick glance down the hall where Bellamy and Wells’ doors were both shut, before shutting themselves away as well. Nate pressed Monty back against the door and Monty sighed again, this time at the feeling of Nate’s body pressed against his own. His arms wound around Nate’s waist to keep him close while Nate licked his way into Monty’s mouth. 

Just as the tension in Monty’s shoulder started to ease, Nate broke away to nip across Monty’s chin. “I’m going to set a fucking bed time for you,” Nate murmured into Monty’s throat. “11pm.” 

Monty snorted, resting his head back against the door. “No way. I have work to do.” 

“No work’s getting done if you’re as tense as you are,” Nate reminded him. His teeth grazed Monty’s collarbone. “Midnight.”

“Fine.”

He felt Nate smile against his skin before looking up at him, and Monty couldn’t stop himself from smiling when he saw Nate, bright and beaming. A curfew wouldn’t be too bad if they were sharing a bed. 


	61. tortured poet

Miller snaps his small, leather bound book shut before Monty can even get a peek. He’s writing something. He’s always writing something. But the angle, directly beside him in class, makes it hard for Monty to ever make anything out.

“He’s probably one of those weird kids,” Raven says when Monty brings it up. They’re sitting at their dining room table, eating Cheerios out of a large pan because the rest of their dishes are dirty. “You know. One of those men who things they’re _so great_ because they like poetry, or something. Deep tortured poet type.” 

Monty rolls his eyes, scooping up another bite. “I think if he was one of those types he would talk about being scorned more often than he does.”

“How often does he do that?” Raven asks.

“Not at all. So.” 

Raven laughs. “That’s promising. Hey. Subject change. Clarke invited me to this party tonight. You in?”

Monty shrugs. “Sure. Why not.”

And that’s a good answer, seeing as Miller aka Dark and Twisted Poetry Boy from his English class is actually at the party when they arrive later that night. Only he’s not lurking in the corner like Monty half expected, scowling out across the partygoers like he’s Holden Caulfield, but he’s got his arm slung around the waist for Bellamy–Clarke’s boyfriend–as they laugh wildly at the game of beer pong they’re playing. 

“How’s that for amateur, Jaha?” Miller calls out with a grin that Monty’s never seen before, a grin that is _outstanding_ and overwhelming and–

“Raven,” Monty desperately reaches for his roommate. “That’s English boy!” 

When Raven scans and finds Miller she literally laughs out loud. Because she knows him. And in no way is he Dark and Twisted. “He’s just a giant poetry nerd,” Raven says. “He and Clarke were neighbors growing up. Definitely not deep and tortured. Poetry nerd, absolutely. But also major frat boy and sarcastic asshole.” 

Jasper drags Monty to the beer pong table later that night, demanding they challenge the reining champs of Bellamy and Miller, and Miller’s eyes light up with recognition at the sight of Monty. 

Deep down, Monty knows it’s going to be a good night. 

(Which is confirmed when, after losing to Monty and Jasper, Miller insists he get Monty a drink, followed by Miller dragging Monty down an empty hallway and slotting his leg between Monty’s and grinding forward, succeeded by the best making out that Monty’s ever experienced in his life.) 


	62. monty's bf

**From Monty**  
is it ok if my bf comes?? 

Miller’s been staring at the text from Monty for the past twenty minutes, trying to figure out why his chest is so red and half-hating Bellamy for never telling him that Monty has a boyfriend. He opens the text another time and frowns. He’s only known Monty for a few weeks, really, but he thought that they were clicking. He thought there might have been something there in the lingering glances. But. Okay. Boyfriend. 

 **From Miller**  
Sure

 **From Monty**  
ok sweet!!!   
he’s really great you’ll love him  
okay actually he’s kind of loud and obnoxious  
but great great great i’ll let him know  
see you then !!

Miller considers sending back an emoji but that would be fake as fuck, so he pockets his phone instead and tries to figure out why he’s so upset. 

It’s probably because Miller hasn’t had a crush on anyone in a long time. Getting over his first boyfriend, Bryan, had taken a while. Eric took less time to get over because they weren’t together that long. But it’s been awhile since anyone even piqued his interest. 

He met Monty through Bellamy, who knew Monty through his girlfriend Clarke. Monty was all dimpled smiles and logical cuteness and reluctant, sarcastic optimism. He made Miller’s chest do stupid, funny things. So when they started texting he thought maybe, maybe, maybe. 

But again. Boyfriend. 

“Maybe he sucks,” Miller said to himself, trying to convince himself to calm down. 

Spoiler alert: Monty’s BF didn’t suck. 

Miller wanted to dislike him on principle because that was something that he did, but Jasper really _was_ great. He looked at Monty like he was magical (and maybe he was) and there was so much care and love between the two of them that Miller couldn’t even be angry. 

He didn’t know Monty that well, really, but he wanted Monty to have great things. 

“Do you like him?” Monty asked at some point during the day. All of their friends had gathered for a picnic of sorts where Bellamy strung up a volleyball net and Murphy brought a few bottles of wine to pass around. “Jasper?”

Miller wasn’t sure why it was so important that Miller approve of his boyfriend, but he nodded.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Jasper’s cool.” 

* * *

 **From Monty**  
i was stuck at work today right and forgot to pack lunch  
and so jasper brought me noodles & co !!  
the best bf ever or what ?? 

 **From Miller**  
Yeah, pretty great

See, the problem with knowing that Monty had a boyfriend was that it didn’t stop Miller from having a crush on him. It just made the crush more complicated. 

 **From Monty**  
wby what are you up to

 _Considering making a Tinder account_ , Miller thought with a huff.

 **From Miller**  
Just talking to you, Monty

 **From Monty**  
:)

* * *

They were all hanging out again and Miller couldn’t stop staring at Monty’s mouth. It was unfair. Jasper was here, somewhere, bonding with Bellamy or Raven, and Monty was inches away from Miller totally uncaring that his boyfriend was elsewhere.

Which, okay good. Because they shouldn’t be co-dependent. But whenever Jasper was around it was easier for Miller to remind himself that Monty was off the market. For now, he was just staring at Monty’s mouth. 

“I think the people you surround yourself with say a lot about you as a person,” Monty was saying, and Miller was nodding as he half-listened. Monty had such a nice _mouth_. He bet his kisses would be all wet and warm and fucking perfect. “You agree?”

“Definitely,” Miller said. Something about the people nearby. 

“Like–Bellamy, for example,” Monty said. “He’s like–stupid loyal.”

“Stupid loyal?” Miller echoed with a smile.

“Yeah. Total mom friend. Would do anything to keep his friends safe. Always going to put others above him. Hufflepuff material.”

“I liken him for a Gryffindor, but I get where you’re coming from.”

“So it says a lot about you, seeing as he’s your best friend,” Monty went on. “It means you value loyalty and friendship, things like that.” 

Miller thought he followed. “Sure, okay.” 

“And so _my_ best friend,” Monty carried on, “says a lot about me.” 

Miller frowned. “And who’s your best friend?” he asked. 

Monty scoffed. “Jasper, Miller. It’s Jasper. I only mention it all the time.” Miller blinked a few times, a frown forming on his face. “He’s super obnoxious and loud which means I’m incredibly patient. You know? And he loves pranks and goofing around which means I value fun things.” 

“It’s cute that your boyfriend’s your best friend,” Miller murmured, half-reminding himself that Monty wasn’t single and half-thinking it to be true. 

Monty laughed. “Sorry?”

“Jasper,” Miller said.

“No I–” Monty laughed again. “Did you just say that Jasper’s my boyfriend?”

Miller’s eyes darted across the room to Jasper, grinning at something Octavia was showing him on her phone, before he looked back to Monty. “Is he… not?” 

The smile on Monty’s face was absurd. “No way,” he said. “Who gave you that idea?”

Miller huffed, “You did!” Before Monty could protest Miller yanked out his phone, scrolling up to their previous conversations. “ _Can my BF come_ ,” Miller read aloud. “ _Best BF ever or what?”_

“ _Best friend_ ,” Monty said.

“That’s not what BF means in text, Monty!” 

“It totally–what! Yes it does!”

Miller scowled, as it was the only way to keep away his smile, and pulled up Urban Dictionary on his phone as fast as he could. “See, look,” he said, scooting closer to Monty. “Top result is boyfriend.”

“Second result is best friend,” Monty pointed out, leaning in. 

“Doesn’t matter what the second result is if the first result is the default.” 

Monty’s hand slid out, grabbing Miller’s phone, but staying close enough that their fingers were brushing. “Well the third result is bitch fit, which you’re currently throwing, so–”

Miller scoffed but his smile broke through his mask of frustration. “Am not.”

“Are too. But!” He stopped him before Miller could respond. “I apologize for leading you to believe that Jasper is my boyfriend.” 

The air seemed to settle between them as Miller said, “Good. It’s driven me crazy.” 

Monty licked his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Miller answered softly. 

Monty’s eyes darted to where his and Miller’s hands were still close. “Well,” Monty cleared his throat. “Are you opposed? To having a BF?”

“Well I already have Bellamy, so…” he trailed off as Monty rolled his eyes. “Which definition are we talking, here?” 

“Boyfriend,” Monty answered surely. 

“Not bitch fit?” 

“ _Miller_ ,” Monty laughed. 

Miller reached out with his hand not holding Monty’s to cup his cheek, tugging him in for a short kiss. Monty sighed as they parted, a dreamy smile on his face. “Not opposed,” he answered. 

Monty leaned in for another kiss. “Excellent,” he murmured. But before their lips could meet Miller pulled back. “What?” Monty whined.

“Why were you constantly talking about Jasper, anyway?” Miller asked.

It was Monty’s turn to huff. “Because I was trying to show you that I am well-rounded as a human and if I can be best friends with someone like Jasper, who was very loud but cool and liked me as a person, maybe you’d get the impression that–”

“I wanted to be with you regardless of your best friend,” Miller cut him off with a laugh. “And Jasper is not _cool_.” 

Monty managed to sneak in another kiss. “Don’t tell him that. He’ll have a _bf_.” 

“Bitch fit,” Miller said with a grin. 

“Look,” Monty hummed. “We’re learning.” 


	63. making miller smile

Monty wasn’t a nosy person. He never had been. Growing up, it had always been Jasper who had the gossip on everyone else and knew what was happening and why. Monty just sort of accepted things as the came to him.

But when Miller got in his moods? Nope. Monty couldn’t let them slide. 

At first, he tried. He _tried_  letting Miller pout for hours straight and snap at anyone who dared ask what was wrong. But Monty quickly realized he didn’t like do doing that–he liked making Miller _smile_. 

The first time was purely by accident. 

“You okay?” Monty asked. They were crowded on Raven’s couch, Miller on the edge with his elbow propped up on the armrest and a scowl on his face. It hadn’t been his typical scowl, though. Something softer. Something simmering. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Miller answered. 

Jasper, on the other side of Monty, made a face. Whoever was playing Mario Kart continued on without acknowledging the bite in Miller’s voice. 

“No?” Monty asked. Miller grit his teeth. 

“Stop it!” Clarke shrieked, laughing wildly as Bellamy kept trying to tickle her as they raced. 

It wasn’t Monty’s turn and Miller didn’t seem like he wanted to play at all. Monty puckered his mouth to the side. “Let’s grab a beer,” Monty finally said. Miller seemed annoyed that Monty kept trying to talk to him after he clearly didn’t want to talk, but still he stood and followed Monty from the couch. “You know,” Monty said as he popped open the fridge, the sound of laughter chasing them from the living room. “My mom called me today, right?” 

He turned, passing Miller a bottle, who accepted it looking even more annoyed. “Sure?”

“She doesn’t normally call,” Monty explained, fidgeting with the cap of the beer, trying (and failing) to open it. “She started telling me about her neighbors,” Monty said. “Their dogs have just been–hanging out on the roof, right?” Miller nodded, his eyebrows furrowed as he watched Monty continue to struggle to open the bottle. “She was telling me how she saw them push out the window frame and just climb onto the–” Miller tugged bottle from Monty’s hand, the smallest smile playing on his lips, and twisted open the bottle using his shirt. “Roof,” Monty finished with a smile of his own.

Miller handed back the beer, his smile slowly growing. “Dog party on the roof?” Miller asked. Monty nodded, and then Miller twists open his own bottle. “Was that the whole story?” Miller asked, smile still wide. “Or is there a deeper life lesson to it?”

“Nope, that was it.”

Before taking a swig from his beer bottle, Miller rolled his eyes. But at least he was smiling.

And God, what a smile it was. 

“Listen,” Miller said gently, shaking his head. “I’ve just–I’ve had a long day. Okay? You don’t have to get all concerned.” 

“Me?” Monty asked. “Concerned about Nathan Miller? Never.”

Miller rolled his eyes, but at least he was still smiling.

From then on, it became a mission of Monty’s to make Miller smile whenever he was upset. It wasn’t much. But Miller didn’t like to talk about his life and Monty wasn’t going to pry. All he could do was making him smile. For a bit. 

* * *

Miller was sitting across from Monty in the library and he was _zoning out_. Like, not the day-dreamy sort of zone out that happened to Jasper when he had to put his brain to use for more than ten minutes, but the sort of zoning out that came with _worrying_.

“Miller?” Monty asked. His eyes focused at once, darting over until he was looking at Monty. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he answered.

He looked down at his laptop and typed a bit before his hands paused and Miller shook his head. Monty hesitated. It was just the two of them in the library, Raven already having ducked out because she needed more caffeine and Bellamy still in class. 

“You sure?” Monty asked. He wanted Miller to know that he didn’t have to talk about it, but of course Monty was willing to listen. 

“Fine,” he said again. 

Monty pursed his lips. A few minutes passed in silence before Monty pulled up Facebook, struggling a bit before finding the Poke feature that was so popular when he was in high school, and virtually poking the man across from him.

Miller’s phone lit up with the notification of it. 

Monty continued on with his work, seemingly unaffected, and Miller scoffed. “What are you doing?” he asked. 

Barely looking up Monty went, “Hm?” 

Miller rolled his eyes and deleted the poke. However, deleting the poke led to allowing Monty to send another. “ _Monty_ ,” Miller huffed when his phone lit up again. 

“What?” Monty asked. 

“You know what!”

“Nu-uh.” 

Miller deleted the notification again. Monty kept working, and once Miller was busy with his own things Monty sent another poke. 

Finally, a laugh bubbled out of the man across from him. “ _Monty_ ,” he said again, this time his voice sounding warm. Monty ducked his head, fighting off his own smile as Miller shook his head at him. “Will you quit that?”

“Quit what?” he asked. 

“The poking.”

“I’m all the way over here,” Monty said, his eyebrows high on his forehead. 

“You know what I’m talking about,” Miller returned. Monty held his challenging gaze, letting himself smile as well. “Message received, okay?” Miller asked. “No more grumping.”

“You were grumping?” Monty joked. 

Miller rolled his eyes again, but still, his smile lingered.

* * *

It became sort of like a game. 

Miller would get scowly. Monty would notice. Monty would do _something_ to get him to smile. Sometimes Miller would talk about it afterwards, but most often he would not. 

Monty would try out new jokes on him, new puns. He would tell childhood stories about himself and Jasper. He would time himself to see how long it would take. But never, ever, would Monty stop until Miller smiled at him. 

Tonight was different. 

It always came down to one different night.

They were at the bar for Murphy’s birthday and Harper was perched on the stool beside Monty. She’d had a shot or two more than he had and she was swaying, flirting, when Monty’s eyes caught on Miller a few seats down.

“Excuse me,” Monty murmured, hopping from his seat without waiting and hurrying down to Miller.

“Don’t, tonight,” Miller muttered the second Monty had assumed the spot beside him.

Monty frowned. “What?”

“Every time I’m in a mood,” Miller said, looking at the bar, “you just–you push until I…” he trailed off.

“Smile?” Monty asked. Miller didn’t respond. “I like it when you smile,” Monty said. “Is that a crime?”

“Maybe.” Miller shook his head, staring down at the bar. “Just don’t tonight.”

“So I’m guessing you don’t want to talk about it?” Monty asked. Miller didn’t answer. Instead, he motioned for another drink, nodding his head at the bartender in silent thanks. Tonight, compared to other nights, even _felt_ different. “Miller,” Monty sighed.

“What?” he asked, a bit of bite to his voice. “Go back to Harper, or whatever, Monty. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Harper?” Monty asked. 

“You seemed pretty content with her draped all over you,” Miller muttered.

Monty frowned. “…No?” Miller scowled. “Harper’s drunk, Miller. She’s just being drunk.” Miller reached for the glass the bartender slid his way and gripped it tightly. All plans for Monty to make Miller smile was suddenly overshadowed with the need to understand what was happening. “What’s going on?” he asked. 

Miller worked his jaw. “Just drop it,” Miller murmured. “I’m your–your thing to fix, Monty, and I’m over it.” 

“You’re–what? No you’re not, Miller.” Of course there was more to it. Why else would Monty go out of his way just to get that smile? “I…” he trailed off as Miller sulked. “Miller, I like you,” Monty said, his voice dropping. “I’m not just…” 

Miller turned to look at him. “You what?” he asked. 

Monty swallowed, ducking his head. “Yeah,” he whispered. “So I–that’s why I’m always trying to make you smile,” Monty carried on, his face suddenly burning. “Because I don’t like seeing you upset. Not because I’m trying to fix you? But whatever.” 

Monty slid off of the stool but Miller reached out, snagging Monty’s shirt to keep him from walking away. 

“You like me?” Miller asked. 

It was Monty’s turn to frown. “No, I’m lying, Miller,” he muttered. “Why else would I go out of my way to get you to smile all the freaking time?” he asked. Miller swallowed before the corner of his mouth curved up slightly, hesitantly. “Don’t do that,” Monty huffed. “Don’t fake a smile because I–”

“You like me,” Miller said again, his voice affected in no small way. 

“Yes! Of course I–”

Miller tugged Monty’s shirt, his fingers still twisted in the fabric, and reached up with his freehand to cup Monty’s cheek. “Not Harper?” Miller asked.

Oh. _Oh_. 

“No,” Monty answered.

And then Miller was kissing him, tentative and slow. But there was a smile on his face. 

And God, what a smile it was. 

**Author's Note:**

> read them first on Tumblr: @madgesundersee


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